


Firefight

by spikala



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-22
Updated: 2012-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-17 12:49:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 45,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9324287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikala/pseuds/spikala
Summary: Stranded when their ship flees, a group of clones and civilians struggles to evade the droid army and make it back to Republic space. Features OCs. Rated Teen for battle violence and some language.





	1. Firefight

There were civilians caught in the crossfire. Their screams and erratic movements stood out from the usual cacophony of blaster fire: a painful reminder of the wrongness of the situation. Jud supressed a shudder and tried to focus on his mission instead.

The base was about to be overrun. The Separatists had rolled up the defences on both sides in a classic pincer movement, droids materialising out of the trees that ringed the forest clearing. It was a lost fight and once again, he wasn't on the winning side. They were on the wrong end of the fire fight. The other troopers on the perimeter were dying one by one; endless iterations of his own death.

Over the comms, Jud heard that larties were inbound, but still a few minutes away. At this rate there wasn't going to _be_ anyone left to evac. Beside him, Hops was busy laying down cover fire, cutting down B1 droids left and right. The dumb tinnies just kept marching straight into Hops's line of fire. Jud wondered why the designers had gone for a humanoid shape. Surely, there were better designs out there, ones that didn't have so many vulnerable joints.

Jud squeezed the trigger; once, twice, three times. Three spindly droids toppled to the ground in a tan heap. Three less droids for the civvies to worry about. That was his job: keep the civvies, civilians in proper Army jargon, alive and the landing zone clear until the gunships arrived to pull them all out of this hellhole.

It was a dumb idea to have landed on this planet, this _non-Republic_ planet, in the first place. Yet another great brainwave from the Jedi Commander, ignoring basic military sense in favour of some nebulous moral code; the enemy of my enemy is a potential ally, yada ya. To Jud's way of thinking, if they weren't Republic citizens and they weren't hostile then they weren't his problem. However, the Commander had been adamant about getting the locals to safety, away from the Seppie droid army. Now the Jedi was nowhere to be found and it was up to Jud and the rest of Typhoon Company to get the job done.

"Nice. Three from three." Hops flashed him a thumbs up.

Behind his bucket, Jud grinned broadly. "And _that_ is how it's done!"

Hops just laughed. "Like you'd know, ya shorn barve!"

Jud gestured rudely in Hops's direction and got another laugh in return.

Metallic crashes heralded the arrival of three super battle droids—supes—their dull grey, neck-less bulk looming suddenly behind him. The burly clankers, true to their nickname, had stumbled into one of the many piles of crates that ringed the landing zone. Jud, Hops, and their motley crèche of civilians were completely exposed. For a horrible instant no one moved, both sides taken aback by the other's presence.

"Clankers! Get down!" Hops yelled at the civvies.

His voice broke the spell. People started screaming as the droids opened fire. One of them was cut down instantly, several shots lancing into his torso, as Jud and Hops dove behind a nearby larty wreck.

Jud peered over a warped shard of metal that had been twisted off the larty's hull like a breakfast fruit peel. Most of the other civilians had managed to scatter to safety. The droids were standing around bodies of the slower civilians slumped at their feet. Stupid machines didn't seem sure which group to pursue first. Jud popped off a couple of shots at the droids to draw them away from the civvies. He recognised one of the dead and felt a pang of regret. The man had broken down in tears earlier when his wife had bled out at the aid station.

"Sit rep?" Hops asked.

Jud updated his brother on what was happening. "Three supes. Civvies are lying low. We've got to take those droids down."

"Agreed." Hops leaned out from behind the LAAT/i and started firing at the tinnies, his decee spitting out blue streaks.

Jud sprinted to the other end of the wreck. The tinnies were focusing their fire on Hops, red laser bolts skittering across the metal hiding his buddy. Skidding to a halt, Jud crouched down and drew a bead on one of the droids. He was in the perfect spot to catch them in the crossfire. In amidst the action, Jud smirked behind his bucket. _Just like the drills, the instructors on Kamino would be so proud._

"Hops?" he asked calmly.

"Yep?"

"Supe on the left; firing in three, two, one. Take!"

Two bolts of blue plasma tore into the unlucky droid and it toppled forward in slow motion, arms still outstretched. The other two continued firing at Hops for a moment before they realised they were dealing with two enemies. One of them swivelled towards him

Jud kept firing at the sweet spot on the droid in front of him; one hit, two hits—another should overload the damn thing. _Click click_. He let rip a stream of expletives—his decee was out of juice. _Typical Republic crap!_ He ducked down as the tinnie lined him up and a hailstorm of red plasma erupted above his head. The thin spar of metal he'd been peering over just a moment before was shredded as if it were a sheet of flimsy, hot metal landing in Jud's lap. _Kriff!_ Jud swiped at the fragments before they could burn into his body glove. From the other end of the larty, Hops quickly glanced towards him, unsure why he'd stopped firing.

Jud gestured at his decee in frustration. "Karking thing is out of juice!"

Hops acknowledged with a quick nod and went back to taking pot shots at the advancing droids.

Jud checked out the area around him, there were no other weapons nearby. He'd used the last of his grenades a few minutes back to take down a rollie. Great, he was out of everything except his bare hands.

"Hops, you got anything you can spare, buddy? I'm out."

"Hold up." Hops fished in his belt one handed. "Last one—make it count," he warned before he lobbed Jud the grenade. "I'll draw their fire. Don't you dare be slow or so help me, I will bury my foot so far up your _shebse_ that you'll need Dale to get it out for you."

With that charming comment, Hops sprinted out from behind the larty firing wildly at the tinnies and dived behind a tower of crates. Predictably, the battle droids opened fire, gouging great score marks into the durasteel crates as they clanked towards their target. Jud peeked out, just to make sure they weren't paying attention to him, before he flicked the arming switch and hurled the grenade at the two supes.

A tremendous wave of pressure, heat and sound hit him, blowing him back onto the ground. Jud hit face first. Even with the dampeners in his armour and glare shields in his bucket, the blast seemed to shake his skin loose from his body, every bone ached. Hops had given him a _kriffing_ thermal detonator, instead of the droid popper he was expecting. _Not helpful, Hops!_

Jud tried to shake off the bleary feeling that permeated his senses. His head felt all fuzzy. The dull thump of a nearby blast focused him. _Looks like my hearing is fine._ He tried to open a comm channel to Hops, just to let him know he was in one piece, but his HUD was busy running diagnostics and wouldn't respond. _Not important now, find a weapon. Protect the civvies, if there are any left_.

He pushed himself up onto his forearms. _There._ About thirty meters to his right was a decee lying in the open beside the body of a brother. He peered around. No clankers were on top of him so he pushed himself up and in a shambling, half-crouched run, he wove his way as quickly as he could to the weapon. With a quick change in direction, he grabbed it and dove behind the downed LAAT/i again.

"So you _are_ alive," Hops exclaimed as he popped up from behind his crates. "Nice of you to let me know." Jud could just hear the scowl in Hops's voice.

Jud rubbed his aching neck. "Well, if you'd given me a popper instead of a det, it would've helped some."

"Got the job done, didn't it?"

Jud bit back a snarky comment; they had a job to do. He checked the decee's safety was off and cautiously approached the inert droids. Where the grenade had landed, nothing was moving. The supes wouldn't be bothering them again—not with parts strewn over a ten-foot radius, but Jud wasn't sure how many civilians had been killed in the fracas. _So much for trying to keep the civvies in one piece._ Regret briefly pierced him for their deaths.

A high-pitched wailing cut through the battle—that was good. At least someone is still alive and kicking, he thought as he went to check on the still forms beside the droids.

Hops ran past him. "I'll grab the others!"

"These ones are gone," Jud said. He knelt down and closed the eyes of the man who had lost his wife. It hadn't been this man's fault that the clankers had come to his world. _Secure the area, secure the civvies and take down any clankers that get in the way._ His orders repeated endlessly in his mind like a corrupted sound bite, leaving a sour taste at the back of his throat. So that's what guilt tasted like.

A gaggle of people went past, Hops bringing up the rear. He paused beside Jud and laid a hand on his spauldron, pressing it gently into Jud's shoulder. "Come on, _vod_ , now's not the time."

Jud noticed that he and Hops were the only troopers moving around the LZ—not so good. All around them hummed the characteristic whine of clone blaster fire, but he could also hear the clankers closing in. He sighed. "Right. Let's move."

Bodies were scattered around the landing zone, clad in the white armour and the dull greys and browns of civilians. Two smoking LAAT/i hulks added to the general impression of carnage. Underpinning all the battlefield noises was the _chonk-chonk_ of droids advancing. It was one plus side of a mechanical foe – you never had to worry about them losing it in the heat of battle and suddenly charging.

Hops often joked you could almost set a chrono by the pace of a tinnie advance. Jud waited for the inevitable quip, but none came. Instead, Hops was busy herding the locals towards better cover. A few civvies, faces pale, stared at him as they passed by.

Another civilian, he couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman, was kneeling in the open, cradling an unmoving blood-smeared form. Jud went and dragged them away. His charges seemed to be dropping like flies despite his best efforts and he wasn't about to add another person to the casualty list.

Jud checked the power pack of his newly acquired DC and looked at the small group of people depending on him for survival. _Hmm, maybe this wasn't the best spot to cover them?_ He was trying to pick a better spot when the noise of the battle changed abruptly. A dull thrumming and the high-pitched whine of rotary blasters joined the discord. The larties had arrived.


	2. Kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jud encounters several small problems.

Jud could feel the thrumming of the LAAT/i in the marrow of his bones. The sound seemed to vibrate through the ground and up into his boots. Two transports landed in the cramped clearing; the pilots putting them so close that you could almost jump from one load bay to the other.

Safety was only a short dash away. He could almost see how it would play out; he'd dash across with Hops, he'd cover the left flank and Hops the right. Then the load master would haul them all aboard and they'd have smooth sailing all the way back to the ship, complete with dinner in the mess hall by 1900 hours.

Unfortunately for all of Jud's fantasies, the Command Code was very clear in situations like this. The mission came first, then the commander, and then the unit. Last on that long list of priorities was the individual. His last orders had been to hold the landing zone so that the local population could be evacuated and right now, he was having mixed success keeping them alive.

The loadmaster was standing in the door frantically waving Hops and the waiting civvies on as the _bdapp bdapp_ of laser rounds sounded nearby. A concussion grenade went off somewhere and the LAAT/i's side gunner swivelled around in his bubble to provide a stream of blue cover fire. The enemy onslaught ended abruptly in a ball of flames and an eerie silence settled over the base. Most of the surviving troopers and civilians had already been evacuated. There were only a few more larty loads to go, then it would be Jud's turn. The sooner he got the last of the civvies aboard the gunship, the sooner he could get to have a hot meal in the _Endeavour_ 's mess hall.

He activated his com-link, "Hey, Hops, I'm going to count noses and round up stragglers. You keep 'em moving."

"Sure thing, _ner vod_. Remember — no roughing them up," Hops joked.

Jud snorted in amusement. "As long as they don't dawdle, I'll try to contain my enthusiasm."

He headed back along their line of retreat, retracing their earlier frantic withdrawal, to round up anyone who might still be alive.

Clusters of bodies marked earlier engagements with the droids. An elderly man was sprawled on his side—droid blaster fire had almost cut him in half. A woman was slumped back against a crate, limbs akimbo. She wouldn't be going anywhere again. The morbid thought drifted through Jud's mind. He knew he ought to care more about her death, if only as an indicator of his mission's success, but couldn't summon the necessary emotions. He didn't know her. He was just glad it wasn't the body of one of his brothers lying there instead.

Just then, a whimper came from under the wreck of what was once an AT-RT recon walker. Jud squatted down to check underneath and was met with the wide eyes of three small children huddled against an older girl. _Oh boy, kids_. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't this.

"It's safe to come out. The transport has come to get you." He tried to sound reassuring, but wasn't sure he hit the mark.

One of the children was shunted forward by the girl. The little boy seemed a tad reluctant which Jud supposed was understandable, given recent events. The kid kept looking back at the girl who was nodding frantically in encouragement. Jud opened his arms, hoping against hope that he looked appealing enough for the kid to come to him.

Time ticked onward, making him edgy. The longer it took to get them out, the bigger the chance there was of everything going pear-shaped and the clankers turning up to crash the party. How were you supposed to talk to children? The only kids he'd ever interacted with were clone cadets, who had never been children in the first place. He debated briefly about taking his helmet off to show the boys under the wreck of the walker that he wasn't a droid, but his 'harmless' posture must've worked and the boy suddenly scooted out to him, grabbing onto his leg with a surprisingly strong grip. Jud was a little taken aback at how small he was, the top of the child's head didn't even come up to the tops of Jud's thigh.

Over the comms, Jud could hear the loadmaster colourfully expressing his displeasure with the delay. Jud smothered a niggling irritation at the man. Yes, _normally_ Typhoon Company was organised; but _normally_ civilians weren't involved, and they weren't _normally_ retreating with their tails between their legs.

The second kid came out and grabbed a hold of this other leg. Jud shifted the boy slightly, so that he could still use his decee if need be. Checking his HUD, he saw that Meer and Digger were also busy rounding up civilians. Dale's POV icon showed that he was checking over a prostrate form that, judging by the amount of blood staining the thin frame, was already beyond help. Still, the medic never gave up on anyone if he could help it.

Jud shook his head and focused on what he was supposed to be doing. The last girl-child was having none of his encouragement and had planted herself firmly in the dirt, despite the best urgings of her minder. The two small boys each had a death grip on Jud's legs, making it impossible for him to bend down and give her a bit of forceful help.

As Dale strode past, shepherding couple of dirt-streaked women, Jud gestured at the kids, "Uh, Dale? Bit of help here?"

The medic snorted in amusement as he snagged the two youngsters. Dale didn't even break pace as he swung them up into his arms. "You just gotta know how to talk to 'em, Jud. It's not that hard."

"Yeah, yeah. I can see in on HNN now: Dale—the kiddie whisperer, saviour of all the parents in Wild Space!"

"Well…. I must admit that the promise of sweeties works wonders," Dale admitted.

Jud rolled his eyes, injecting as much sarcasm as possible into his reply. "Duly noted. I'll remember that the next time I get stuck with a passel of kids."

"Think of it as practise for when you've got kids of your own," Dale suggested.

Jud tried to remain diplomatically silent, but his body posture must've given him away.

Dale shrugged. "Please yourself. I'd quite like to have three of my own someday, maybe more. This war's going to finish eventually." With that parting shot, he was gone along with the two boys.

Now that he was free, Jud crawled partway under the AT-RT, gripping the little girl's arms and pulling her with him as he slithered back out. She popped out like a greased Hutlet and the older girl, who was maybe in her early teens, emerged close behind her. Jud waited until the older girl had straightened fully before he thrust his errant charge at her.

"Head for the transport, ma'am. Straight that way." Jud pointed.

She grabbed the younger girl by the hand and took off in the direction that he'd indicated. Jud watched them hurry away. They never looked back.

Jud wondered, did civilians _ever_ looked back? Did they ever wondered about the soldiers that fought and died in their place? Probably not, theirs was a different world entirely: as alien to him as the Jedi and about as attainable too.

"Oi, Jud." Hops' voice crackled over the comms, making him start.

"Yes?"

"Quit navel-gazing!"

"Copy that." Jud adjusted his decee and went back to work.


	3. Larty Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LZ = Landing Zone

Having solved the problem of the children, Jud began looking around for more refugees to herd towards the LAAT/i. There should only be a few left now.

He started back down the path of the fire fight coming across more bodies—armoured and not—sprawled like so much debris over the battlefield. It looked like Meer and Digger had already been this way, the only civilians left here were beyond help.

"Full up for the moment, lads." Jud heard the loadmaster say over his com-link. "Another LAAT/i will be here ASAP. Stand by and be ready for an immediate dust-off. You boys seemed to have annoyed the local tinnies somewhat."

Jud paused briefly as he saw the larties rise slowly above the top of the camp emplacements. As the blast doors slid closed, he could see a couple of small faces staring down. He was glad the kids made it on the larty. Normal kids had no place near a battlefield like this. Not even clones got thrown into live fire _that_ young.

Up ahead he could see a small pile of bodies. The top two were obviously dead – the man's neck was at unnatural angle and a round had entered the woman's head by one ear and exited below the other ear. He placed two fingers on the carotid artery of a woman slumped under them. Her pulse thrummed slowly but strongly beneath his fingers. He pushed the bodies off her unceremoniously and inspected her for injuries. A swelling lump on her forehead might account for her unresponsive state. She wasn't bleeding anywhere and there weren't any obvious breaks or possible spinal injuries. It seemed she'd just been knocked out. Not bad, given the types of injuries the other civilian casualties sported.

In his HUD, he checked up on the rest of the group that had been tasked with the LZ's defence. Dale and Hops were keeping an eye on the gaggle of civilians. Meer and Digger from 4th Squad were patrolling the perimeter looking for any tinny activity or survivors. The base looked quiet enough for the moment.

Clipping his DC to his belt, Jud bent down and lifted the unconscious woman up in a fireman's lift. She had obviously been on short rations for a while; she didn't weigh much more than his gear. _Definitely lighter than a brother though._ He paused to adjust her weight across his shoulders slightly and then set back to the LZ.

"Making friends I see, Jud." Hops had a gift for stating the obvious.

Jud bit back a caustic remark. Instead, he bent down, lowering the woman to the ground. Hops came to lend him a hand, lifting her arms from around Jud's neck, then they both stepped back so that Dale could do his job. Dale started checking the comatose woman over, shining a light in her eyes before running a handheld scanner over her still form, muttering to himself as he did so.

"Pupils are responding normally, visible swelling on right temple with beginnings of a decent haematoma. We'll need to keep an eye on her for any signs of subdural haemorrhaging though."

Jud let Dale's monologue drift over him as he scanned the perimeter, rifle back in his arms where in belonged. Comfortable, but easily brought to bear should the situation deteriorate.

Meer chimed in then. He and Digger had finished their sweep of the perimeter and had arrived back on the other side of the LZ. "Jud, I know the holozines say to be assertive, but I think knocking the lady out might be taking it a _little_ far on a first date."

 _Smart mouth_. Jud had to come up with a witty reply and fast, or he'd never hear the end of it back at barracks.

Hops came to his rescue, like always. "Aww, Meer, you're just feeling jealous that Jud found a better looking date than you. Ya know that was one sturdy-looking civvie I saw you with earlier. Bit on the hairy side."

Jud was saved from further ribbing by the sudden appearance of Sergeant Wiki, the company's second in command, who was obviously less than amused by the situation. "Stow it you lot! You know better than the clog up the comms with idle chit chat! The tinnies are busy regrouping, so let's make the most of this breather. Are we clear?"

A chorus of voices replied in unison. "Sir, yes, sir!"

"I want everyone to pull back to the LZ," Wiki ordered. "Get the civvies ready, hold the perimeter, and be ready for dust off. Digger, Meer, I want you out on the outer reaches—if you see the clankers, call it in—then leg it back here! Got it?"

Digger and Meer chorused their acknowledgement and headed for the main gate of the base at an easy lope.

Troopers started appearing in ones and twos at the edges of the LZ. Not many were unscathed, most were limping, and a couple were walking only with support from another trooper. Worse still were the guys who were being carried, slung between their buddies like so much deadweight.

Dale hurried over to the unmoving troopers, skidding the last few feet in his haste, before peeling off armour to start triage and first aid. Jud tried hard not to pay attention to who was who—he didn't want to know just yet who hadn't made it.

There were so few members of Typhoon Company left now. The platoon's squads had been fragmented and spread out across the area of operations in a desperate attempt to hold the base. It was only chance that Jud's platoon had been stationed at the forward base rather than evacuating the town. The Seps had flattened everything in a single massive fireball. No one had heard from Captain Bede or 1st and 2nd platoons in the hours since then.

Jud hoped that most of the company had made it out and had already been picked up by other larties, but his gut told him that probably wasn't the case.

The sarge noticed his lapse in attention. "Jud, get 'em ready for the lift."

"Yes, sir."

Jud had fifteen civilians with him waiting for the larty. They were a mixed bag of ages and sexes; from a little girl with tear-tracks carving a path down her grubby face, to an elderly man supporting himself on a cane. The adults' faces looked pinched and their clothes hung off them like they were used to a bigger frame. These folk needed a decent meal. The kid looked fine though, maybe the adults were skimping on their rations so that their children could eat properly. Jud approved—not that his approval probably mattered one bit. All of them looked dirty and bewildered, huddled in a knot like the end of the world was coming—which he supposed it was for them.

Jud lowered his decee and moved towards them, _non-threatening body language—just like the regs say_ , opening the external comm system on his bucket on full audio with an eye movement.

"Listen up. The next transport is due any moment." It felt like a sea of faces were suddenly fixed on him, Jud wasn't sure why but he felt slightly unnerved. Being in charge had never been his forte. He kept talking though, "when I tell you, I want you all to stand up and make for the transport. Kids and anyone who is injured gets in first. Everyone else in behind them. Once you're in, head as far back as you can. Do you understand me?"

A sea of pale faces nodded mutely.

Jud gave them the thumbs up. "Not long now, folks. Hang in there."

The pilots did not disappoint. The larty was there on the dot at the appointed time. In hindsight, Jud should've realised that was a bad sign—air support was never on time—but at that moment he thought nothing of it. Instead, he focused on getting the evacuees in as fast as possible so that he and the other troopers could get off this dirt ball as fast as possible. _Goodbye and good riddance_.

He and the loadmaster formed a dissonant chorus; their voices sounding like warped echoes of one another. "Go! Go! Go!"

The youngling streaked toward the loadmaster who lifted her up and just about threw her in. At the other end of the loading bay, Hops was standing in the larty helping Dale load the wounded at breakneck speed. Jud mentally checked his charges off as they embarked; the old guy was on as well as half of the women.

His HUD threw up an incoming missile alert, red icons flashing in front of his eyes and alarms beeping shrilly.

The larty lurched upwards without warning, the pilots trying to gain altitude.

The woman who had been on the verge of getting on lost her balance and fell back out of the craft onto Jud, knocking him flat on his back and slamming the breath out of him. The larty's backdraft flicked grit into his eyes as he pushed her off and struggled to breathe.

As he lay on his back wheezing and unable to move, Jud saw the whole thing unfold in slow motion. The larty was fifty meters up. It lurched to one side as a missile streaked past, seemingly close enough to touch. The Seps were using dumb missiles and the projectile shot past into the sky. The transport kept climbing, trying to get away from the barrage as fast as it could.

The yelling of his brothers echoed in his ears, merging into a cacophony. The pilot was screaming out for air support. Sergeant Wiki was screaming blue murder as he tried to triangulate the enemy's firing position. The sound of his own laboured breathing and the high pitched whine of the larty's overtaxed engines only added to the din in his bucket.

Someone grabbed him and dragged him to cover. Jud tried to speak, to tell them he was only winded, but he couldn't breathe and gasping for air didn't seem to be helping. He fought the urge to panic, forcing himself to relax. He'd been winded before in training and knew the drill. Above him, he saw a white helmeted figure firing into the sky. Jud put his hands on his head, trying to breathe normally, willing his body to cooperate so he could get back in the fight.

Over the comms, the panic in the pilot's voice crept up a notch. Vultures were inbound! The larty was now at least eighty meters up and still climbing away from the base. It rolled suddenly on its side, the cabin tilted at 90 degrees, as another missile streaked past. An explosion and wave of heat rolled down over the base. The Sep missile had gone past the larty and hit an oncoming vulture droid. As the droid came down, one of the pieces crashed into the larty, shearing off the rear of the cabin.

Jud watched horror-struck as the transport hung in the air for a moment more before it slowly yawed to the side and began to fall. He saw bodies spilling from the larty, limbs windmilling as they fell. One of the figures was much smaller than the rest. He shut his eyes for an instant—poor little thing didn't stand a chance.

The larty slammed into the treeline beyond the base perimeter, a fiery blaze blossoming over the treeline. The bottom dropped out of Jud's stomach. If anyone had survived the crash the droids would finish them off. Tinnies weren't known for their humanitarian nature.

Then he remembered—Dale and Hops had been on the larty watching the wounded.

They were gone.

Not coming back.

KIA.

His friends were dead.

A small part of him wailed, _not again!,_ then a veneer of ice encircled his heart, numbing everything. He felt nothing. He was wading through fog, watching as it happened to another man.

There was nothing left but the mission – keep the civilians safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigh. I wrote this fic partly in protest at the outrageous amount of clone-killing that happens on Mr Filoni's show, but I seem to have gone over to the Dark Side... On a brighter note, Dale & Hops weren't too happy about getting a small role either, so I'm (STILL!) working on another story (sort of a prequel) with them in it.


	4. The Clanker Welcoming Commitee

Jud watched as smoke and flames billowed through the tree canopy, announcing the location of the crash site to all and sundry. The whole thing felt surreal. He was in the simulator at Kaliida Shoals again. Any moment, his HUD display go blank, that one _beautiful_ word – endex— would pop up, telling him that this whole horrible nightmare was over. He would see Hops would be standing beside him, complaining about getting killed again, Dale would come out of the observation booth and start lecturing them both about their mistakes. It had to be a sim. It had to.

This was not him. It was not his friends whose POV icons showed only blackness. This wasn't real. It wasn't happening. Not to him. Not again! The feeling of wrongness welled up, suffocating him. Where was endex? Why didn't the sim stop? He refused to believe his eyes. It couldn't be real because that would mean…

Suddenly there wasn't enough air in his lungs. It was Kaliida Shoals all over again. Old fears surged to the surface and Jud ripped his bucket off as though it had turned red hot. The scene in front of his eyes didn't change. He could still see the flames, smell the smoke. It was real... Oh gods, it was real!

A voice cut through his clamouring thoughts. Sarge was calling the _Endeavour,_ his voice crackling out of the helmet in Jud's hand, " _Endeavour_ , this is Typhoon! We have lost a larty, repeat, we have lost a larty! Requesting immediate evac—we still have civilians and wounded men down here."

Jud rammed his helmet back on, just in time to catch the last of _Endeavour's_ reply. "—ts a negative on evac, Typhoon. It's getting too hot up here. We have to withdraw. Hang in there—we'll be back. _Endeavour_ out."

Jud couldn't believe that Dale and Hops were gone, not even a scrap of armour left to prove they'd ever existed. Snatches of memory slipped in front of his eyes, an endless parade of Hops and Dale laughing, talking, _alive_. He could remember the first time he'd met them both, on the Kaliida Shoals med centre, like it was yesterday. Hops had saved him from despair. Dale had saved them both from Kamino and reconditioning.

"I'm assuming you all heard that!" Sergeant Wiki's voice rang in his ears, loud and steady. "It looks like we're holding the fort until the _Endeavour_ returns with some friends. The tinnies are busy at the crash site, so we've been given a breather. I want everyone back at the LZ, five minutes ago!"

Jud tightened his grip on his decee. They were being been left behind. He was starting to lose count of the times he'd been abandoned now. Waterfall Company on Christophsis. The 501st at Kaliida Shoals. Now Typhoon Company was being fed to the boar-wolves on this dirtball planet that wasn't even on the star charts.

Clones were expendable. Regardless of Dale's debating, Jud knew that they were just pieces on a larger game board. That was just the way that things were and sometimes you got stuck with the crappy end of a mission. But he'd always thought that no matter how bad things got, he and Hops would make it through, just as long as they stuck together. Now with no more larties coming, there the only thing separating him from Hops was time and a higher clanker body count.

_Is that all?_

Hops' voice came out of nowhere, blunt and relentless as always. Jud knew what Hops would say as surely as if his buddy was standing beside him still. _Are you just going to lie down, Jud, and let the tinnies finish you off too? Pull your finger out, brother. There's a job to be done!_ Jud straightened. Hops was right. He hadn't finished the mission yet. His heart still felt like it was frozen, but it was a good chill—numbing the wound so he could finish the job.

Someone clapped him on the back, plastoid gauntlets clacking against his backplate. Jud looked up and saw Meer's bucket staring at him. "Come on, Jud. Sarge wants us over at the LZ."

"Be right there," Jud replied. _Mission first._

He stole a glance at the remaining civilians. They looked shell-shocked and not inclined to go anywhere, but it paid to make sure. Jud flicked his external speakers on, trying to project a cheer and confidence he didn't feel. "Chin up, people. We'll get you out of here. For now, stay where you are, I'll be right back."

A scattering of nods greeted his announcement. Reassured that they weren't going to do anything stupid, Jud made his way over to the growing crowd of clones.

There weren't nearly as many men left from the platoon as he would've liked, but he recognised a few faces. Sergeant Asku, 2nd Squad's sergeant, was there along with his squad medic, Stretch. Meer and Digger from 4th were also there. Surprisingly, one of the rookies from 1st Squad had made it, his unblemished armour standing out in a sea of scratched white plates. Captain Bede had strong ideas about armour customisation—most of them negative, so Typhoon was one of the few companies in the GAR that was as colourless as the day they'd left Kamino.

Jud looked around, but Sergeant Wiki was the only other soldier from 3rd Squad. It looked like he and his squad sarge were the only survivors of the nine men that had stepped out onto this world not that long ago. He bit his lip, willing himself to hold it together —he could remember Hops, Dale, and the rest of 3rd after the mission was finished.

"I'm sorry."

It was Digger on a closed channel, his voice soft. Jud managed a terse nod in return as he slid in beside the younger clone. After all, Digger had been friends with Hops and Dale too.

Wiki had propped himself up against a crate and he wasn't looking the best. Jud hadn't noticed his sarge's injuries earlier, but they weren't good. Shrapnel had pierced his armour in several places and crimson seeped out under his chest and shoulder plates. Wiki eased his bucket off awkwardly and the remainder of Typhoon followed suit. Jud hesitated, craving the extra privacy, but not wanting to be the odd man out. After a beat, he took off his helmet too, clipping it to his belt.

When it became clear that no one else was going to be joining them, Wiki began. "The Commander's last order still stands. Our primary objective is to keep the civilian population safe. We've got to get them out of here."

Stolli piped up then. It was always Stolli with the doubts. "There's only ten of us left now, Sarge. We won't last long against that army of clankers out there."

"Maybe not. But I reckon it might be time for a plan B." Wiki coughed wetly, holding up a hand to forestall everyone's instinctive lunge towards him. "In a minute, men, let me finish first."

Stretch looked more than a little uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Like all medics, he hated standing by when somebody was hurt, even if he did lack Dale's warmth.

"Sarge, you should let us check you out. Keep coughing like that and we mistake you for General Grievous and slot you by accident." The unexpected levity from Meer sparked a chorus of chuckles and Jud felt the atmosphere lift slightly. "Not to mention, it would stop Stretch from fidgeting," Meer added.

Wiki grinned, but he did let Stretch start stripping off armour plates to assess the damage. "For that comment, Meer, you'll be sweeping out the base for a week when we get back."

Another ripple of laughter spread through the group and Meer copped a few good-natured jabs from the clones flanking him. A ghost of a smile flickered on Jud's lips. Then he frowned. What was he doing, smiling when Hops was dead? What was wrong with him? Jud noticed that the shiny wasn't laughing either, his face grim and drawn. Probably the first time the rookie had seen friends die. It wouldn't be the last.

Wiki's grin turned into a pained grimace. "Now, to business: the clankers know that some of us are still alive and kicking, but I'm betting they're too dumb to keep track of how many." Wiki paused as Stretch slowly eased him down to a seated position and began dumping bacta into his wounds. That nobody made any more smart remarks was an indicator of how grim their situation was. Wiki ignored Stretch's ministrations for the most part and began sketching a crude map of their position in the dirt with his finger, wincing occasionally as the medic touched a tender spot.

"This is our position—the Seps will be advancing at any moment from here and here." He pointed out the relevant spots on the map. "They'll expect to find some resistance. I'll set up a distraction to hold them off and keep 'em busy. I want you lot to grab the civvies and sneak out here." He indicated an area away from the incoming forces.

Wiki broke off as a coughing spasm wracked him. "I want you buddied up with the remaining civilians so even if one pair doesn't make it, the rest might. Remember the mission, gentlemen—the civilians' safety is paramount. Use the forest for cover. Once you've cleared the enemy lines, bug out of here as fast as you can and make tracks for the rendezvous point. _Endeavour_ _will_ be returning for us, but not for a while so it'll be escape and evade for now. Questions?"

Stretch shook his head. "Sarge, you're hurt bad. We need to evacuate you and the other wounded."

Wiki fixed the medic with his most ferocious sergeant's expression. It looked like that part of the plan was not up for debate. "I'll only slow you down. It has to be this way," he said soberly.

One of the wounded clones chimed in, "I don't much feel like a nature walk either, Sarge. I think I'd better stay here and keep you company. After all, with this many tinnies we're going to need a form a … um… a Clanker Welcoming Committee!"

Laughter started at Remy's remark. The powers that be didn't share the joke though; spits of rain started to fall, pattering against the top of Jud's helmet.

Jud kept his dismay to himself; the thought of Dale's disapproval choking off his protests—Dale always did like to look on the bright side. The whole thing sounded crazy enough to be one of General Skywalker's ideas and about as lucky too, but saying that aloud wouldn't improve the situation or anyone's morale. Nor would any of the others get it. Typhoon had been rebuilt from a mishmash of men from all different companies; only he and Hops come from the 501st. In any case, as the Sarge had pointed out, they were out of options.

He looked over at the civilians. The destruction of the larty seemed to have been the final straw and the fight had gone out of them. They were still sitting meekly where he'd told them to stay, not making any moves to find weapons or help themselves. Hot fury swelled in his chest. They had done nothing while his friends had died, expecting the clones to save their _shebse_ for them. Jud hastily smothered his anger—it wasn't going to help. He was going to save these nuna-brained civilians because that was his _job._ Hops and Dale would've both told him so. This wasn't over yet.

The briefing continued, but the rest of it was just details. Jud's mind was only half on the conversation. Insignificant details kept tripping his mind up despite his best attempts to stay in the here and now. Details like, how far were they going to get in a green forest wearing white armour?

* * *

The rain beat down; the earlier drizzle had given way to a downpour, fat raindrops blanketing the landscape. The grey skies perfectly offset the horror of the battlefield below. _So much for his first mission._

Nestled in the branches of a particularly bushy tree, one of Typhoon's newest members, CT 47/4812—Fitch to his squad-mates, if he'd had any left—watched as the Welcoming Committee started the party. The civilian that he'd been buddied with had been limping slightly, so they hadn't managed to get very far from the base before the tinnies advanced. Although they were clear of the fire fight by a good four hundred metres, there was still a chance that stray shots could come their way.

He carefully shifted a branch out of his way so he could get a clearer view of the situation. His squad sergeant probably would have reprimanded him for using something as insubstantial as foliage for concealment, but the sarge was dead and Fitch had noticed that droids didn't tend look up for trouble. Fitch was good at noticing things like that. His training sergeant on Kamino had commended him for his, what was it, 'out of the box thinking', not that it had helped his squad-mates any.

His new friend was safely stashed in a nearby bush. Huge eyes had greeted his suggestion to climb a tree, so he'd left her on terra firma, which was probably best if her leg wasn't 100%. He was sure that he could keep a better eye out for trouble from above anyway. Hopefully he could do a better job protecting her than he had at keeping the other members of his squad in one piece. His first mission and everything that could go wrong, had gone wrong.

The tree's branches blocked his view of the sergeant's position, but he could see the blue streams of blaster fire from 'The Committee' as they held off the droids. Sergeant Wiki had stuck with his last-stand idea. In fact, all of the wounded who were still able to fire a rifle had insisted on staying behind to put on a good show for the tinnies. All the spare rifles had been rigged to tripwires to make it look like there was a sizeable force still holding the base. It was a cunning ploy, Fitch was only sorry he hadn't thought of it first.

There was a muffled crump as a thermal detonator went off. Fitch froze, tightening his grip on his decee. The wounded clones had only had a handful of grenades, so the situation must be getting bad if they were starting to use them. The columns of droids, three abreast, kept pouring into the base. Fitch couldn't see any blue streaks of fire, but the return fire from the droids reassured him that the others were still in the fight.

Fitch's frustration built, roiling and writhing in his stomach, like a living thing that was gnawing on his insides. The others were doing their job and he was doing his. He couldn't help them, couldn't risk moving his civilian with all the droids around. So he watched helplessly as more of his brothers died in his place.


	5. Ril, Jud, and Fitch

Even hidden under a bush, Jud could see the thick black smoke from the base billowing into the air; a tombstone for those who'd fallen defending it. He hadn't seen the battle, but the sounds of blasters, grenades and the cries of his brothers echoing in his bucket had painted a gruesome picture in his head. Their sacrifice had worked though. Once they'd silenced the last gun and torched the FOB, the droids had headed back to wherever they'd come from. It was just too bad that they were still sending out patrols.

It was the third time that he and his charge had needed to dive under cover as B1 droids buzzed by on STAP's. Any worries he had had about his armour standing out in the forest had vanished after he'd clambered out from that first hiding place completely covered in mud. Since then, Jud reckoned they must've put close to six klicks between them and the ruins of the base. The only bright spot in the whole gloomy affair was that there was no sign that the droid patrols were scouring the woods for a ragtag bunch of clones and refugees. It seemed like the clankers were sending out patrols just because their programming said to.

Beside him, the woman he was supposed to be guarding was breathing shallowly and he could see she was starting to shiver. Jud growled out a curse in the soundproofed sanctuary of his bucket. All he needed now was for her to go hypothermic when he had no way of heating her up. He would need to keep an eye on her so she didn't get chilled further. With no wind to mask smoke and droid patrols buzzing by periodically, a fire was completely out of the question. His frustration welled. It was though she was deliberately trying to thwart his mission. His conscience twinged, sounding awfully like Dale in his medic-mode. It wasn't her fault that this had happened, the reasonable part of him whispered. Jud choked back the urge to punch something. He'd been like this for hours now: getting frustrated by stupid little things, then becoming angry and frustrated at his frustration. He'd avoided speaking to his charge; worried about snapping at her and unsure if he could preserve a friendly façade.

Jud knew just how much he could push himself. He'd gone past breaking point before when his squad had all been killed on Christophsis. He knew what was happening to him this time. Everything seemed to remind him of Hops and Dale, his mind conjuring up their reactions and quips out of thin air. This time he didn't have the luxury of checking out and he didn't want to. It was like poking a bruise. You knew it would hurt like _haran_ but some twisted part of you kept doing it, just so the pain reminded you that you were still alive, still kicking.

He listened carefully. The whine of the STAPs had faded and his HUD showed all clear. The forest was decently balanced between visibility and cover. Massive tree trunks were dotted around, soaring into the canopy overhead. Interspersed between those goliaths was a mosaic of plant life; compact bushes about head-height (perfect for concealment), fallen tree trunks and boulders (good for cover) and scraggly shrubs that looked like they'd been caught in a larty backdraft—blown into a wispy parody of a plant. The forest floor was a mess of dead leaves, moss, ferns, and mud. Lots and lots of mud. After a moment longer, he crawled out from under his bush, managing to get a new coat of muck on his chest plate.

His charge was still hunkered down under the bush. Jud bent down and touched her shoulder gently, so as not to startle her. His Dale-conscience said he should really try and get a hot drink into her. "We're clear for now. I'm sorry, ma'am, but we have to keep moving." He fretted briefly about keeping her core temperature up. He calculated that if they kept moving at a decent pace, their exertion should keep her warm.

She wasn't a clone. Wasn't like him. He didn't know what her breaking point was, how long she could keep going for. He wondered briefly, were civilians ever taught survival skills? As a cadet, his pod had been given a flash lesson on survival tactics and then marooned on a deserted planet for ten days. The Kaminoans reasoning had been that if the young clones survived, they had assimilated the lesson, if not – too bad. Still, she had made it this far, so there must be some survival instinct lurking under the unlikely exterior.

She nodded, pale and eyes still wide, and started worming out from under the bush. She hadn't said anything to him the whole time they'd been moving, but then again there wasn't much to say. He hadn't started up a conversation, that's for sure. Maybe she thought of him as another type of droid, albeit made of flesh and blood. Who knew with civvies. He offered her a filthy mud-daubed hand. He felt oddly better when he noticed that her hand, when she accepted, was just as filthy as his.

Before this mission, he'd had a somewhat romantic notion of what a normal human woman would like. This was, admittedly, based on what he'd seen in his brief foray onto the HNN where all women were clean, with immaculate clothing, coiffed hair, and a sense of delicate feminine grace. Beside him stood the reality: a tall, solidly built woman, covered in mud and crushed plant stains, with tangled dark hair scraped together in a rude bun.

"Thank you, soldier." The sound of her voice startled him. It was pleasantly pitched with a faint accent to it. _Concord Dawn maybe?_

"Not a problem, ma'am." He was pleased that she had said something to him. Perhaps she was human after all.

Just then, his gut twinged; something didn't feel right...

Jud tensed, tightening his grip on the trigger of his DC and carefully scanning the underbrush around them through his decee's sights. Whatever or whomever it was, it was going to regret disturbing him. He'd had a bad day and he was more than happy to share his pain around. Nothing was going to get in the way of him and finishing this karking _shabla_ mission. His buddy noticed his movements and started edging towards the nearest cover.

"Hold fire! Friendly!" The voice of another clone came from a coppice of trees twenty metres away.

Jud kept his DC trained on the muddy figure that emerged from the trees and came towards them, feeling an irrational disappointment that he didn't get to waste a tinnie. As the other clone came closer, Jud realised that the newcomer was one of the shinies that the company had added, just before leaving on the _Endeavour's_ shake-down cruise. His HUD flashed up with tally from the other clone's armour, a string of numbers superimposed on the clone. Jud searched his memory for the other clone's name. _Fitch, that was it._ The cockiest of the lot. Jud relaxed, lowering his weapon.

"Good to see you made it."

"You too, sir." Fitch sounded relieved.

"I'm not a sir. We're the same rank, shiny. Where's your buddy?"

"Not coming. Stray shot got her through and through." Fitch's shoulders dipped a fraction.

Jud frowned slightly. _Stray shot?_ Things like that happened. Sometimes the odds just weren't in your favour. When Fitch had shown up alone, he'd known that something must've gone wrong. Still, it always paid to confirm things. "Looks like you're free to give me a hand with this one then," he said as neutrally as he could. "I'll take point. You keep an eye on her from behind."

"Copy that."

The woman in question had emerged whilst he and Fitch had been talking. Jud wondered briefly why she hadn't said anything; then realised that he and Fitch had been chatting over the in-helmet comms. She wouldn't have heard a thing. Tactically it didn't make sense to talk using external comms, except when the other party was higher in rank or 'need to know'. He wondered if he should include her in the discussion. She was keeping a fair distance from Fitch, as though she was afraid he'd turn on her. So much for civilian-clone cooperation. He ignored his twinging, pesky Dale-sounding conscience that muttered that she hadn't been _that_ bad a package; she kept up, followed orders, and generally didn't make herself a nuisance. He told himself that she wasn't 'need to know' yet; when he had good news he'd let her know, but not before then.

"Have you heard anything from the others since the base fell silent?" he asked Fitch.

"No s…" Fitch caught himself. "No. HUD diagnostic says I've still got long range capability, but until we've got friendly eyes-in-the-sky again, I don't recommend we try contacting them." The younger clone sounded as though he was giving an update to a training sergeant; pertinent info only, in a neutral tone.

Jud _mrphed_. "Signal relay must've gone down when Seps must've trashed the base. I guess we're stuck with short range helmet comms for now."

It was a bad situation all round, but right now, Jud couldn't help feeling just a little bit positive. Another member of Typhoon had made it past the droids. Sure, he was stuck with a shiny as well as a civvie and he was in charge again, but it was a start. He just feverently hoped that somewhere in the woods, there were more groups making their way towards the rendezvous point.

* * *

Ril was scared, she was hungry, but most of all, she was cold. She wrapped her arms around her, pressing her cold damp shirt into her sides in a vain attempt to hang onto her body warmth and stop her intermittent shivering. The rain had stopped a while ago, but she was still soaked to her skin and covered in filth. It would be nightfall soon, the birdsong had cranked up another notch, and temperatures on Rekohu tended to plummet when the sun wasn't up. It wasn't a comforting thought.

Thinking: it was something she was trying hard not to do. Too much had happened too quickly. Earlier today she'd been gathering plants for her collection, worrying about what dish she should make for the potluck dinner. But now…? In a matter of hours, her life had been turned upside down and she still wasn't sure how it had happened. She shut her eyes tightly.

"Ma'am."

She looked up into a mud-splattered helmet, seeing her face—looking ridiculously normal— reflected in the shiny black visor. It was the one who'd been with her since the start. He had a smear of mud spread across his helmet's left cheek in the vague shape of an ess. Belatedly, she thought that maybe she should ask his name, but then reconsidered. She didn't much feel like talking to anyone at the present. He'd been kind though, not pushing her to talk like her mother would've, always giving her a hand-up, not remarking on her general disarray.

He offered her a canteen. "Here, drink this. It should help."

She took a sip and looked up at him, startled. "It's hot!"

"Ration cube in hot water - it should help keep you warm for a bit."

He went back over to stand by the other soldier. Ril sipped at the hot drink, feeling warmth spread down her throat and in her belly, and watched the two men. The newcomer seemed to defer to her soldier. Neither had said anything aloud, yet from their body postures it looked like they were talking to each other, little tells like cocking their heads and shifting from foot to foot. The new one's armour looked different under the mud, glossier. Suddenly the silent conference was over. Her soldier came back over to her and she gave him back the now-empty canteen.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Good to hear, ma'am. Let me know if you start feeling cold again. We should get going," he said in that calm voice of his. "We've got lots of ground to cover and not much time."


	6. Settling In For The Night

It was getting dark. The beams of sunlight that lanced through the canopy were becoming paler and the dapples of sunshine that blanketed the undergrowth were surrendering to shadow. The forest around them was taking on an almost monochromatic look, everything fading into a greenish grey.

Jud checked on his companions behind him; frowning slightly. The other two had bunched up. There was supposed to be a ten metre gap between each person, just in case they ran into droids. As he watched, he saw the woman stumble, but Fitch steadied her before she could fall. Jud figured that would explain why he was sticking so close. The shiny was doggedly plodding along, chin tucked into his chest, much the same way that Jud walked whenever he was tired.

Jud felt chagrined. He'd been on edge: tensing at any movement in the underbrush, heart speeding up at any unexpected sounds. So wrapped up in covering as much ground as possible before nightfall that he hadn't been paying attention to the two of them. Full credit to them both; neither had lagged behind or complained. Then again, Jud had noticed they weren't the chatty type.

If Hops were here, he'd be busy griping about everything. Dale would be humming some jatz or glimmick tune under his breath. Meer and Digger would be playing some inane game; probably trying to see who could count the most trees, or Meer would be listing everything bad about the situation with Digger cheerfully countering with the positives. Jud whistled to himself. He had no idea what Fitch did when he was bored.

Hot tears pricked at his eyes, threatening to escape. Jud shut down his comm systems just in case he made a tell-tale noise that betrayed him. He exhaled raggedly, trying to get himself under control. He knew that if he started crying, he wouldn't be able to stop.

He'd thought losing friends and brothers might get easier over time but the reverse seemed to be true. He was no stranger to loss; during training exercises and in warfare. His company had been decimated at Christophsis; only two men of every ten had come back from that planet. He'd been left to languish at the med centre when his broken leg hadn't healed fast enough to re-join the 501st. After that, he was seconded into Typhoon Company. His only constant had been Hops. Now he was alone again. He collected himself, but a few tears made it out and slowly rolled down his cheeks.

When he was sure that his voice wouldn't give him away, Jud opened his speaker systems. "It's getting dark. Let's bunk down for the night and continue in the morning. Any suggestions?"

The younger clone immediately sat down on a nearby rock. The woman also looked completely beat. She was resting against a tree trunk.

"Trees."

The woman's croak startled him. She coughed and cleared her throat before continuing in her normal voice. "I don't recommend sleeping on the ground here. We'd be better off in the canopy."

Jud automatically started accessing his HUD's database, searching for unfriendly fauna before he realised that there was no entry. He gave himself a mental slap for his idiocy. They were in the Rishi Maze, one of the satellite galaxies—of course there wouldn't be an entry for this planet, this whole galaxy was pretty much uncharted which is why the _Endeavour_ had been here in the first place; complete isolation and safety to complete the ship's shakedown flight, working out any kinks from the shipyard.

"Any particular reason for that, ma'am?" Jud's voice was steady, but he groaned inwardly. Just once, could he land on planet that wasn't covered in vicious plants and animals?

"It gets really dark at night in the forest and the crawlers track their prey by vibrations and body heat. When you are asleep, your breathing vibrates the ground, and… well, you can guess the rest." She shrugged.

Jud winced, imaging 'crawlers' running over him in his sleep. The situation was a no-brainer. "Canopy it is then."

The woman coughed again. Fitch offered her a canteen and she drank before continuing. "I think there is a _maimai_ in a tree nearby." She correctly interpreted his silence for confusion and elaborated. "A _maimai_ is a hunter's hut; a place to hide from prey as well as sleep. I'm not confident that I'm reading the trail signs correctly, but I'm fairly sure I can take us to it. "

She'd gone from being passively rescued to lending a hand. Jud's estimation of her rose a few notches.

"Lead the way, ma'am."

* * *

Fitch didn't know how the other clone could sound so normal. The _Endeavour_ was crippled—if not destroyed. Their Commander and most of the Company was dead and they'd been trudging towards the rendezvous for hours now. To top it all off, they'd utterly failed in their mission; the Seps had still destroyed the town and massacred most of the locals.

He could still see the vacant face of his civilian buddy pressed into the leaf litter and the muck. He couldn't believe how completely he'd mucked up. He'd aced his training on Kamino. His squad had been the best and he'd graduated feeling like he would singlehandedly save the Republic and win the war. Now it seemed that no matter what he did, nothing went right and his only accomplishment so far was that he hadn't walked into a tinnie's line of fire.

Fitch snapped back to the present, realising that the others had started moving without him. The woman was climbing barefoot up a huge tree. Her shoes were looped around her neck. The tree trunk was easily twice as wide as his arm span and completely covered in all sorts of vines and plants. He looked up, but its top vanished into the canopy overhead. If there was a hut up there, he couldn't see it. Despite her earlier fatigue and clumsiness she seemed remarkably sure footed. Maybe that's what the locals did here for fun - climb trees.

Fitch followed her up the massive trunk; being careful to keep three points of contact with the tree at all times. He could deal with heights, but he didn't have to like them. In his HUD he could see that the other clone had gone back to cover their tracks, smoothing down the leaf litter that they'd disturbed earlier. Yet another thing he'd forgotten to do! He growled to himself. He couldn't for the life of him remember the other clone's name either. He discretely checked the Typhoon Company's roll, feeling guilty as he did so. CT-58-2571 - Jud. Fitch stared at the screen, burning the name into his memory. He just hoped that he wouldn't make another mistake or forget something important and get them all killed.

* * *

Jud hoisted himself up, swinging his leg onto the broad limb, and clambered up onto the huge branch. His arms felt like overcooked noodles after that climb. The tree branches had all been decently sized, this one was wide enough for two clones fully armoured to sit side by side.

He breathed a quiet sigh of relief to see the other two waiting for him on the deck of a tiny hut that was perched on the massive branch. A small deck ran around the outside of the shack, which looked almost tall enough to stand up in. If Fitch had heard Jud's sigh, he gave no sign of it. Fitch was still pretty shiny and had that stiffness, almost wariness, that rookies had. You know, afraid to do or say the wrong thing. In Fitch's place, Hops would've probably punched Jud's arm as hard as he could in greeting, grinning the whole time and silently daring Jud to admit his soreness.

Jud sat down, shifting his decee to the front, and leaned back against the tree trunk. His bliss lasted all of a few moments before his armour started digging into his buttocks in a most uncomfortable fashion. He shifted slightly, but with no improvement. He popped his helmet seals and sucked in a lungful of night air. _Urgh._ He grimaced. Whatever he'd rubbed over his armour to hide the whiteness was pretty fragrant.

On the narrow deck, Fitch had followed his lead and removed his helmet too, stacking his decee in a rack that huddled beside the hut walls. Beside him, the woman had gathered up some of the tough creepers that dripped off the tree and was doing something with them. She looked up, meeting Jud's gaze and held up her handiwork, so he could see.

"I'm making a safety line," she explained, "so tomorrow we don't have to climb down, we can just slide down the line to the ground."

"Oh. You should've said something, ma'am." Fitch twisted around and dug in his pack. "I've got some cable you could use instead," he said as he offered her an ascension cable.

Jud stared blankly at Fitch's offering for a second and then exploded.

"You had an ascension cable on you the whole time! You...idiot!" He couldn't think of a stronger word. "We could've spared ourselves the climb! Not to mention the chance of someone falling and dying! Why the _frack_ didn't you say so sooner?"

Fitch shrank in on himself under Jud's outburst; his eyes downcast and shoulders hunched. Jud glared at him, not appeased in the least. To the other side, Jud could see the woman was staring at him, mouth open and eyes wide. He'd gone and scared her, exactly what he didn't want to do. He blew out an exasperated sigh, forcing himself to calm down before he opened his mouth again and scared them even more.

"What else do you have in that pack of yours?" he demanded.

Fitch tensed again, looking nervous. "Just some stuff I grabbed before we legged it out of the base: dry rations, a spare canteen, and some extra ammo." The rookie was looking at his lap, not meeting Jud's eyes. "I… uh... took them off the dead before I left the base. I figured they wouldn't need the gear anymore but we might."

Fitch's response was entirely unexpected. Jud blinked, keeping his face blank while he processed this information. Shinies that could think out of the box like that were normally channelled straight into ARC training, not put in with regular infantry. Jud knew from his own days in Tipoca's Military Complex that cadets that did well in training tended to have a certain swagger and innate confidence, but Fitch's confidence levels were more in keeping with a lower echelon clone destined for maintenance duty.

Jud was stumped. He was aware that Fitch recently joined the company as part of a rookie squad from Kamino, but he hadn't spent much time with the newbies outside of PT and other company exercises. He realised he knew next to nothing about Fitch.

His anger guttered and then died out, replaced by remorse and guilt at his outburst. He was supposed to be the experienced one in this party, he was the one that was meant to keep it together. Instead, he was getting lost in memories and emotion, breaking down and then taking it out on Fitch. _Great job, genius_ , he thought bitterly.

"I'm sorry, Fitch," he said, "that was uncalled for."

Fitch saluted. "I apologise for my lapse, sir, in not mentioning my extra supplies. It won't happen again."

Jud nodded in reply, but he still felt guilty and bewildered by his own sudden rage. It wasn't like him to lose it like that, especially not when the enemy might overhear them. He needed space to clear his head and get back in the game. Hops would've said as much if he was still here.

Jud stood, stretching out his legs. "I'll take first and third watch," he said. "Fitch, I'll wake you when it's your turn."

* * *

She woke from dreams of blood and blaster fire to find a dark figure looming over her. She sucked in air to scream, but a large hand covered her mouth. Ril struggled, trying to break free.

"Relax, ma'am, you're safe," a familiar voice whispered. The events of yesterday flooded back over her and she sagged in relief. The pressure on her mouth lessened.

"Are you okay, ma'am?"

She nodded and looked up into a familiar face, feeling her heartbeat hammering in her ears. One of the soldiers was kneeling over her, his hand over her mouth. Neither man had made any advances earlier, but she couldn't help feeling a spark of panic leap in her chest at his proximity. He sensed her alarm and moved back, giving her enough space to sit up.

"Sorry to give you a fright, ma'am, but you were thrashing and calling out in your sleep," he explained.

"Bad dream," she said sheepishly, forcing herself to relax. "I'm good now."

She realised then that it was her soldier that was kneeling beside her. She had worried about being able to tell the two men apart when they had removed their helmets, but thankfully they sported different hairstyles. The new soldier had his black hair trimmed on top into a curiously square hairdo. Hers looked slightly older, faint lines around his eyes and had his hair cropped close to his skull. They did look very similar though, brothers perhaps? Older and younger?

"I'm sorry for making noise," she said.

"Not a problem, ma'am," he replied easily.

"Ril."

"I beg your pardon, ma'am?"

"Ril. It's my name. I'm Ril." She groaned mentally at how silly she sounded. Socialising wasn't her strong point, but she shook away the nervousness and tried to crack a smile as she stuck her hand out in a gesture of greeting she hoped he recognised.

The soldier stared at her extended hand for a beat, before he too cracked a smile and shook it. When he grinned at her, she couldn't help but giggle a bit.

"Nice to meet you, Ril, I'm Jud," he said. "And that misfit over there…" he jerked a thumb to the other soldier who was fast asleep, "that's Fitch."

Fitch let out a sudden snore and they both dissolved into quiet laughter.

Her soldier, Jud, shook his head. "So much for being awe inspiring. Anyway, you'd better get some sleep, Ril. We'll be doing plenty of walking again tomorrow." He stood and left the hut.

As Ril snuggled back down to sleep she wondered; Jud's whole face had changed when he smiled. He no longer looked like a grim soldier, more like a regular guy. She didn't talk with the guys in town too much; they always seemed so strange, like they were from another planet or something. She never seemed to say the right thing, or missed the cue entirely. Yet she'd managed a whole conversation with a soldier from another planet, no sweat. She was sure that somewhere in the universe, someone was snickering over the irony of the situation.


	7. A Treetop Breakfast

The dawn chorus was well underway by the time that Ril awoke. It seemed strange that even after her life had been turned upside down, existence went on as normal for every other animal on the planet. Amazingly, she had managed to get a decent night's sleep despite the fact that they were in a _maimai_ halfway up a tree. After the first nightmare, she had slept deeply without any more dreams. Remembering her conduct last night brought heat to her cheeks. Did soldiers have nightmares like that? If so, Jud had been kind enough not to say anything.

Ril wondered briefly whose _maimai_ it was? Most of her friends enjoyed hunting down the large avians that were native to the woods of Rekohu, but she preferred collecting plants to killing birds. Before he'd passed, he father had once taken her hunting with him in a blind similar to this. Despite her father's efforts she'd fallen asleep waiting for their quarry to show and then brought up her breakfast when he had gutted his catch. He'd laughed good-naturedly at her and thankfully had never taken her out with him again.

Her stomach growled, reminding her that her last meal had been yesterday's breakfast. With everything that had happened yesterday, there just hadn't been time to get something to eat. War tended to interrupt daily routines, she thought bitterly.

She started to stretch then paused as a thin blanket fell off her shoulders. She couldn't remember having put it on—one of the troopers must have put it on her at some point during the night. Setting the blanket to one side, she sat up and looked around. The _maimai_ was a large one, tall enough to stand up in and with enough space for two hunters and their gear. Even so, there wasn't really anywhere for anyone to hide. She was alone with only an army pack for company.

A tendril of anxiety stirred in her stomach—where could the others be? She padded out to the deck—empty. She looked around, but there was no sign of them. A loud thud behind her startled her and she spun around, letting out a yelp of surprise.

"Easy, ma'am. It's just me." Jud had dropped down onto the platform.

"Where did you come from?" she demanded before she could stop herself.

"I was higher up the tree getting a bird's eye view of the land. I didn't want to startle you—you seemed like you could use the extra sleep."

She couldn't think of a sensible response so she retrieved the blanket and handed it to him. "Thank you," she murmured.

Jud shook his head. "That wasn't my idea, ma'am. Fitch is the one you should thank."

"Oh. Okay." Her belly growled again, breaking the silence before it became uncomfortable.

Jud grinned unexpectedly at her. "It seems like I'd better feed you, else your stomach might call a bunch of Seps down on us." He cracked a dim joke as he went back in the rude hut and started rummaging around.

Ril took a seat on the platform and looked out at the forest. She could only see a few meters before the screen of leaves and branches drew together, blocking her view. Jud's mood had improved since last night and his favourable humour reassured her. He had been so silent the entire trek that his outburst the previous day had scared her, she'd been sure he was going to punch the younger man. He'd been nice enough last night but she wasn't sure who she would find this morning—the guy who laughed at snores with her, the wooden trooper, or the berserker who was ready to hit his own brother.

A clatter behind her heralded Fitch's arrival. His shiny white helmet popped, bobbing around as he clambered up onto the branch.

"Good morning, ma'am." His unlined yet serious face emerged from under his helmet and he nodded politely in greeting. He looked so much like his older brother. The resemblence was uncanny.

She smiled in return. "Good morning, Fitch."

Jud emerged from the _maimai_ with a couple of canteens and several foil packages in his arms. He handed them each a packet.

"Chow time!" he said cheerfully.

Ril tore open her parcel to find a small, pale and greasy bar. This was food? She sniffed it unobtrusively, but it didn't seem to smell of anything. She took a tentative bite. It didn't taste of much at all, maybe a hint of blue milk in the aftertaste? Even the texture was unpalatable, sticking to the roof of her mouth and gumming up her teeth as she chewed. She swallowed with difficulty and eyed the rest of the bar with distaste. Suddenly it looked a lot bigger than she'd thought. No one could actually eat this stuff, could they? She looked up and saw the brothers, their mouths full, staring at her with obvious amusement.

Jud swallowed his bite. "I take it you've never eaten dry rats, err dry rations, before, ma'am?" He chuckled.

"Dry rats? Um… no. Is that what you call this… ah stuff?" She raised an eyebrow at them. "This is what you eat normally?"

She didn't know how they could live on food that just tasted so… _blah_.

"We normally get hot meals when we're in barracks, but in the field it's usually dry rats, dry rats, and more dry rats." Jud explained.

Privately Ril thought that a dried rat might be preferable. She wrinkled her nose in distaste and glanced at Jud and Fitch only to find that they'd both gone back to scarfing down their bars.

Fitch spoke up. "Dry rations are designed to give you maximum energy and nutrition with a minimum of bulk."

"Minimum taste too," Ril muttered defiantly underneath her breath as she resigned herself to eating the rest of the blah-bar.

The other two had… _somehow_ finished eating and went back into the hut. They seemed to have made up after their spat last night. Ril was no stranger to family disagreements, her own parents had never quite managed to mask their disappointment that she hadn't yet married and started a family to carry on the family bloodline, but watching the two brothers' argument last night had been... uncomfortable, intrusive. Friction between family members ought to be private. Jud and Fitch's parents must be very tolerant if they allowed both sons to join the military, perhaps there were other brothers who stayed home?

She tried not to eavesdrop but couldn't help it, the sounds of their voices wafted out of the entrance into the still morning air.

"I managed to scout the immediate vicinity. There's a small stream five minutes to the nor'west of our position. The water is potable—I recommend we detour and top up our water supplies before heading for the rendezvous point."

"Good work, Fitch. Any trace of friendlies or clankers?"

"Negative."

Ril heard one of the men sigh, but couldn't tell who.

"As Sergeant Wiki says…uh, said—no news is good news."

"We're pretty low on food supplies too, sir. We've got enough dry rats for maybe two days if we limit ourselves, but after that we're going to have problems."

"Hopefully _Endeavour_ will be back before we get to that point. As far as I can tell, we're less than half a day's travel from the rendezvous."

"I hope the others made it."

"I guess we'll find out when we get within comms range."

Ril managed to choke down the last of her bar. It filled the ache in her gut, even if it left her craving something with flavour. She joined the brothers inside the hut. "I guess we're doing more walking?" she inquired.

Jud nodded. "Not too much farther to go, ma'am. We should meet up with everyone before night fall."

Before she could stop herself, she heard her traitor mouth blurt out, "it's Ril! I'm not a ma'am and your mud has rubbed off."

With perfect comedic timing, both men looked down at themselves then at each other before bursting into laughter. Ril just stood there for a moment, but couldn't help it—she had to grin at both of them.

"Guess we'd better add muck-rolling to our to-do list…" Fitch looked impish. "Sir!"

Jud rolled his eyes comically in feigned annoyance. "I'm _not_ a sir, Fitch!"

"Yes, sir! Jud, sir!" Fitch snapped out a perfect salute and managed to keep a straight face for all of ten seconds before he dissolved into laughter again, taking them all into a fresh bout of mirth. It seemed that a decent night's sleep worked wonders for everyone.

* * *

Their trek through the forest went smoothly. The weather, which had looked so promising in the morning, had instead turned into sulky grey skies that leaked a steady drizzle through the forest canopy. The optimism of breakfast vanished as time crawled onwards. Fitch's chrono showed that they'd been walking for almost two hours. Ril seemed to have taken Jud's earlier warnings about silence to heart and hadn't uttered more than a half a dozen words.

Fitch was on point, keeping an eagle eye on the forest in front of them. He'd been trying hard to follow all the standard procedures and not make more mistakes. Jud hadn't corrected or rebuked him over anything. He even gave him an approving clap on his shoulder when Fitch had spotted a droid transport convoy in the distance. His mistake last night seemed to have been forgotten altogether.

To his right, a small bird fluttered onto a branch beside him. It cocked its head from side to side, cheeping as it inspected him. The birds of this world seemed to be very curious; a number had fluttered down and perched at eye level to get a good look at their rag-tag group. If this world had animals, it seemed like they were staying out of sight. Not that Fitch minded of course. It's just that his training had mentioned that most planets had unfriendly and dangerous indigenous animals. Perhaps he should ask Ril about it during their next break.

Over the curious chirps of the bird, Fitch heard a faint sound—almost like voices. He halted and slowly crouched down, scanning the woods around him, decee at the ready. His HUD showed that Jud and Ril were doing the same behind him. He strained to listen, feeling like his ears were growing out of his helmet. Around him all he could hear was the sound of raindrops pattering onto the leaves mixed in with the echoes of bird calls. Perhaps he was just hearing things? That was the worst part of all this sneaking around. As time went on, you got more and more paranoid, and less and less able to tell if your paranoia was justified.

Behind him, he saw Jud carefully positioning Ril beside the best cover. A slight creak of armour heralded his arrival at Fitch's side.

"What've you got?" Jud asked.

"I thought I heard voices…" Fitch shook his head. "Now I'm not so sure… Wait! There it is again!"

"Yeah, I heard it that time too," Jud said.

"I don't see anyone though… and those birds haven't moved. They'd get spooked if something was wrong," Fitch said carefully.

Ril shuffled up to join them. "What's happening?" she whispered.

Despite Jud's lecture this morning, it seemed that she followed instructions only when it suited her. Fitch heard Jud making small noises of frustration over the com-link. Then he realised—it might be a Republic comm signal! He rerouted power to his receiver and made out a snatch of _Vode An_ over the radio. He grinned. Not even the rain could dampen his spirits now.

"I think I've got a comm signal from another trooper!" Fitch was elated. "This close to the rendezvous point, it's got to be the others! We're probably only nine clicks away from them."

Ril's brow furrowed. "Clicks?"

"Kilometres," Fitch translated.

"Oh! How long until we get there?" she asked.

There was a muted click as Jud patched through to Fitch's com on a private line. Fitch felt a bit rude but Ril tended to ask lots questions about things she didn't understand which turned a quick update into a long-winded translation session.

"I'll flash the boys a message," Jud said, "and let them know that we'll be joining them shortly."

"A text-only message has less chance of being distorted over this distance, sir," Fitch warned.

"Don't teach a Jedi how to wield a lightsaber, shiny… and quit it with the sir."

Even through his visor, Fitch could feel Jud's glare.

"Go update Ril," Jud growled.

Fitch heard a quiet click as Jud closed the private line. The other clone moved on to survey their surroundings. Fitch turned to Ril who was waiting patiently. "We should be there in approximately ninety minutes, ma'am. We're all supposed to be at the rendezvous by dawn tomorrow. So provided nothing has happened, you should meet up with your family and friends then."

Ril grinned with relief. It didn't seem to Fitch that she was used to trekking for long distances, but she had managed to keep up. Fitch grinned back. That was better than he expected a civilian to do. They'd needed to stop earlier to treat her blisters but she hadn't grumbled any more than a clone would in her position.

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go!" Ril got up and made to move past him. He grabbed her arm.

"Remember what Jud said earlier, ma'am. You stay in the middle and you keep a ten metre distance between us at all times. We can protect you better that way and the distance makes it less likely we all get taken down at once by an enemy attack."

"You could've just said so rather than mauling my arm" she grumbled.

"My apologies, ma'am," said Fitch.

"Ril," she huffed. "Not ma'am. Remember?"

"I'll do you a deal—you remember the rules and I'll remember not to call you ma'am," he wrangled.

She rewarded him with an ear to ear smile. "Deal!"

They'd gone another few clicks when a crackly voice cut through the silence in Fitch's bucket.

"Jud, Fitch, this is Stolli. Transmission acknowledged. You are clear to approach from the nor'east."

"Stolli, this is Jud. Copy that. You boys better save us some caf."

"Had to do something while you lot were busy sightseeing," Stolli said dryly.

"Everyone made it?" Jud asked.

There was a pause before Stolli replied and Fitch's heart sank.

"We'll debrief once you get here. Stolli out."

Questions welled up inside Fitch. He wanted to grill Stolli, but Jud was the ranking trooper in the group. Regs said that he was in charge of communications unless he formally delegated that duty to another clone, which he hadn't. Fitch was just going to have to wait for answers.

He paused a moment as he looked back at Ril. He wondered if he should update her, let her know that not everything had gone right, but what should he say? Especially since he didn't know the details himself? He figured that nebulous bad news was worse than no news. They'd all find out what had happened once they met up with the others.


	8. Sergeant Jud

It was hugs all round when Ril was reunited with her people. Fitch was a tad bemused by the tears and noise. He'd heard about people crying tears of joy, but seeing, and unfortunately hearing it, was something else entirely. For one thing, he hadn't imagined it would be so… high-pitched. The instant they had set foot in the cave, Ril had been charged by a skinny blonde and a young man who both seemed determined to hug her, cry over her, and generally inspect her for damage. Fitch half-thought he would hear a rib crack under some of those hugs.

The rendezvous point had turned out to be a small cave nestled halfway up one the foothills that skirted the forest. They had made their way up the dense green bush of the gully, climbing steadily for almost an hour as they followed a small stream that gushed down the slope until they had finally spotted the sentry position manned by two mud-daubed clones who waved when they caught sight of Fitch's group. The cave itself looked like something had bitten out a chunk of the hillside, creating a wide opening that exposed the cave interior to the forest below. The dirt floor was bisected by a creek that bubbled up from a small pool at the back of the chamber; this was the source of the stream although the small pool of water didn't seem large enough to warrant the violent torrent that carved its way down the gully floor.

Inside the cave, the squeals of delight climbed to an even higher pitch, echoing off the walls and making him wince. _How could three people make so much noise?_ The cavern was roughly the same size as a larty cabin with room for everyone to spread out but right now, Fitch felt the cave wasn't nearly large enough. In the small space, it felt like the shrieks of delight were slowly shredding his eardrums. Fitch edged away from the civilian trio and went to join the other clones who were gathered near the cave's entrance having their own, rather less boisterous, reunion.

As Fitch watched, a figure in mud-spattered plastoid loped up to Jud and playfully punched his shoulder. "You made it—took you long enough."

"Aw, you missed me, Meer. I'm touched," Jud said.

"Hate to disappoint you, but Digger's keeping an eye on the surrounds and Stolli's being as sociable as ever. Right now I'd chat with a Kaminoan if one strolled by," Meer shot back with a cheeky grin.

Another clone looked up from where he was cleaning his blaster and gestured rudely in Meer's general direction. Fitch figured that must be Stolli.

Fitch thought he had most of the other clones' names sorted by now. After his mistake of the previous day and forgetting Jud's name, he'd spent the night refreshing his knowledge of the reg manual, his HUD had a copy stored in the memory chip, and the company roster. He knew the name and number of each of the 144 men of Typhoon Company, even if most of them were no longer amongst the living. Now he looked carefully at the other troopers in the cave, noting the ident numbers that flashed up in his HUD and matching names to numbers. It looks like the other survivors of Typhoon came from a mix of 3rd platoon's squads; Jud was part of 3rd squad, Stolli was 2nd squad, Meer and Digger—who both seemed to be very friendly with Jud—came from 4th squad. He'd run into each of them during training exercises with the rest of 3rd platoon, but hadn't gotten the chance to socialise. Watching Jud laugh and joke with the others, Fitch was reminded once again that he was new here.

Despite the light-hearted banter, Fitch sensed that the other men were desperately glad to see each other again. It must be like having a brother come back from the dead; having to wait for hours on end, not knowing if the man you saw heading into the forest would ever come back, then seeing them reappear as though by magic. Jud had relaxed the instant they'd seen the other clones, his posture less tense now that he was surrounded by familiar faces. Jud's obvious relief had hurt unexpectedly, reminding Fitch that his closest brothers were now all gone. Fitch tried hard, but he couldn't help feeling a wave of guilt mixed with envy well up inside him. No one would be waiting for him. The other clones were all older, their armour beaten and weathered. The only one he knew was Jud. Fitch let out a troubled sigh as he watched the other duplicate faces in duplicate armour carry on. They were all clones; taught that one brother was just as good as another, but still... it wasn't the same. He missed his squad all over again with a fierceness that hurt deep inside.

Digger reported in then, a crackly voice over Fitch's comm system. "Stretch and Sergeant Asku ought to be coming in any time now."

It took a moment, but Fitch managed to place the newcomers; Sergeant Asku and Stretch were part of 2nd squad, Stolli's squad. Sergeant Asku was a veteran of Geonosis. Stretch was a medic. Fitch felt a wave of optimism knowing that a sergeant and a medic would be with them. He noticed that Jud also seemed relieved by the news; the other man had seemed uncomfortable with being in command, even though Fitch thought he was a good leader. In any case, the Sergeant would probably have a plan to get them off this rock and a medic would be there to patch them up along the way. It seemed that things were finally looking up.

* * *

It was another hour before Stretch arrived at the rendezvous point. During the long wait, Jud had managed to finally perform a diagnostic on his bucket to make sure that yesterday's grenade had done no lasting damage and was busily cleaning his decee, pieces laid out on a scrap of cloth in front of him. Digger was catching up on his sleep whilst the civilians chattered. Stolli and Meer stayed in the sentry post, keeping an eagle eye on the thickly forested gully. It was one advantage to this rally point; only one way for clankers to come in. At the same time though, this meant that there was only one way out. Jud prayed that they wouldn't be discovered—they would be caught like womp-rats in a trap.

The appearance of Stretch and his civilian, a woman in her fifties, did not get the same exuberant welcome that Jud, Fitch, and Ril's arrival had. There were only a few hours left until the rendezvous deadline and three pairs were still unaccounted for—almost half their number. The long wait was wearing on everyone's nerves and the arrival of one clone when everyone had expected two started a round of nervous muttering.

Stretch ignored the curious stares and marched over the knot of chatty civvies, his civilian shadow following in his wake. Pressing a hand into his charge's shoulder, Stretch got her to sit, her legs folding under her. Jud realised he was getting distracted and went back to trying to scrub miniscule bits of grit out of his disassembled decee spread out in front of him. His ears pricked up when he heard Ril's voice, loud and outraged. He was about to head over there when her voice cut off. Jud was trying to get the muck out of the grip of his decee when Stretch, his helmet on his belt and face taut, came over to him.

"I need to speak to you, Jud. Alone," Stretch said, voice clipped and terse as always.

Jud flipped a corner of the rag over the freshly scrubbed pieces of his decee. No point cleaning the kriffing thing if fresh grit was going to blow into it. He got to his feet and followed the dour medic outside. Stretch headed along the ledge that ran from the cave's entrance along the edge of the hillside, stopping when the two of them were fifty meters away from the entrance. Jud's curiosity and his sense of dread were rising. Being singled out was never a good thing. As it turned out, he was right.

Stretch snapped out a salute. "Medic Stretch, reporting for duty, sir!"

Jud bit back his acerbic comment. He'd just gotten Fitch to stop calling him sir. "Asku is the ranking clone, Stretch, not me," he said, leaving the unspoken question of where the Sergeant was.

"You are now, sir. Sergeant Asku said to tell you that you're the sergeant now," Stretch said.

He was a sergeant, the ranking clone. He was in charge. It took a long moment to sink in and Jud's first reaction was denial. His second was panic. He didn't get the chance to panic too much though, because Stretch was talking again.

"Sergeant Asku took a bad tumble out of a tree. There was nothing I could do for him."

Stretch dropped his eyes; he always took losses as personal failures. He held up a handful of white plastoid chips, clone tallies. Feeling numb, Jud reached out a hand and Stretch tipped the tallies into his palm. There were so many; Jud could only just get his fingers around them all. He tucked them into a belt pouch, taking care not to drop one and disparage the memory of the man whose tally it was. _Hops and Dale won't be in here_. The thought crossed his mind out of nowhere, brutally reminding him of his shortcomings, his tenancy to be distracted. He wasn't sergeant material! He felt that he had to protest.

"What about Stolli?" Jud asked. "He's been with Typhoon longer and he's older than me. Shouldn't he be in charge?"

"Sorry, sir. Sergeant Asku was pretty firm about that before—" Stretch bit off whatever he was about to say. "Look Jud, Stolli had an... incident. You're in charge now."

"Incident?" Jud asked nervously. "What happened?"

Stretch shifted his weight to his other foot, looking uncomfortable. "This is confidential, understand?" Jud nodded and Stretch continued. "It was that mission when we were sweeping that Force-forsaken jungle mopping up any Seppies that got left behind. Stolli was in charge and we were chasing down some commando droids. We came across this burnt out house and heard movement. Stolli told one of the guys to throw a grenade in there..." A grimace of horror flashed across Stretch's face.

Jud groaned, suddenly understanding why Stolli shunned all positions of responsibility, why the other man refused to lead even in the most minor of training exercises. "Who'd he kill?"

"Civilian family; mum, dad, two kids, and… a baby," Stretch muttered. "But it wasn't on purpose. Droid tracks looked like they'd led straight to the place. We didn't know the civvies were there. We couldn't tell."

"But somebody should have scanned the building!" Jud snapped. "We're not a bunch of idiot droids! We're supposed to be better than that—that's why the Republic commissioned us!"

"I know! I know," Stretch interjected. "Someone should have looked."

Jud let out a heavy sigh. It was just the kind of mistake he'd fear he'd make. Jud cursed silently, running through every epithet he could think of in his head. "I don't want this job," he growled at Stretch. "What if I end up getting all them killed?" He waved angrily in the direction of the cave. "I'm not..." he hesitated, unsure how much of his personnel file the medic had seen. "I'm not reliable enough to lead," he admitted in a small voice. "I might break, again."

"It is a possibility..." Stretch said calmly, destroying the small shred of self-confidence in Jud's breast. Jud's head drooped but the medic wasn't finished yet. "...but I've seen your file and I don't think you will."

Jud's head flew up at that small vote of confidence. Stretch was looking steadily at him. Jud met Stretch's eyes and felt oddly soothed by the medic's level gaze.

"We're not friends," Stretch said, "but I've seen you around the barracks. You are one of the most level headed and fair clones I've ever met. You might not want command, Jud, but you _are_ a commander. I've seen officers and NCO's come and go, so I know what I'm talking about. Sergeant Asku knew what he was doing when he picked you. I understand his decision, even if I don't agree with it. Think about it all you want, but we both know you're the only candidate." Stretch snapped out another salute. "Sir, if you don't mind, I'm going to put my feet up and have a break."

Jud managed to salute, dismissing Stretch who started walking back towards the cave. Jud couldn't bring himself to return to the others just yet. He needed a bit of time to get to grips with his new role. Stretch was right of course, damn him. Stolli refused to lead, Meer was too erratic—hot-headed one moment and defeatist the next, Digger was too mild-mannered—brilliant follower but a bad leader, Fitch was too green, whilst Stretch—as illustrated by his little speech—just didn't have the people skills and made no bones of the fact he disliked civvies. As Stretch had said, he was the only one left. Jud groaned inwardly; it looked like he was going to hear a lot of 'sir!'s in his immediate future.

One of Captain Bede's sayings came to mind; _there are no bad decisions, just bad follow through. Make a decision then make it the right one_. Jud took a breath. For as much as he respected Captain Bede and knew what he had meant when he made that statement; Jud also knew it wasn't true. There _were_ bad decisions and no matter what you did you could never make them right. Well, let's just not make the wrong decision, he told himself. He sighed as he scanned the forest below. He might not be ready for this, but his brothers and the civilians needed a leader and right now that was him. That was all that mattered. As Hops always says... said, _mission first_.

Jud put on his helmet, feeling it sink down over his face, unusually heavy as though all his worries and responsibility were weighing it down. He opened a com channel to Stolli and gave his first real order. "Okay Stolli, gather everyone up. Debrief in five minutes."


	9. Debrief

Ril's initial elation at seeing other people died down when she realised how few of them there were. It was just her, Wesak, and his wife Cera huddled in a parody of a group hug. Where were the others?

Over the top of Cera's head, Wesak caught Ril's look of dawning fear. "Yep." He nodded soberly.

"This is it—we're the only ones who made it?" Ril's voice cracked slightly. Walking through the jungle with Jud and Fitch, she'd managed to block out the past, but seeing familiar faces and hearing familiar voices was making it very difficult to maintain her composure.

"Well, let's just hope that we're wrong," Wesak said grimly. He ran one hand through limp brown hair, pushing away a lock that kept falling in his eyes. "Or at least wrong about who's left on the ground," he added.

Cera let out a sob at Wesak's response. Cera's eyes were swollen and red-rimmed, her face blotchy with grief. Gone was the immaculate girl who prided herself on being the perfect wife, a perfect member of the community. Not like Ril, whose refusal to join the family's business and instead work in the bakery had perplexed all and sundry. Cera was now crying in earnest and buried her face against Wesak's shoulder, her death-grip on Ril's hand not easing in the slightest.

Ril looked at the other two, really looked. Wesak's normal unflappable demeanour had given way to a pale, drawn face with eyes that blazed with anger. Cera seemed afraid to let him out of her sight; one hand gripping Wesak's shirt front tightly.

Ril's own eyes started to fill as she realised—perhaps for the first time—that everything had changed, irrevocably and forever. Nothing was ever going to be the same. Almost everyone she knew was dead. Her home, her family, all gone. She was alive. Relief flooded in, only to be swamped by horrified guilt. What was wrong with her? How could she even think like that! How could she be glad that others were dead instead of her? Why was she still alive when so many weren't? Ril let out a heavy sigh, swiping at the tears that made their way down her cheeks.

Wesak had managed to pry Cera away from his chest, one arm around her, wiping away her tears with his free hand. "Cera… love, look at me." Cera's chin came up "The first ships made it, love. We saw them, remember? The others are out there somewhere. We'll find them again, don't worry."

That caught Ril's attention. "The first ships?" she whispered, full of hope.

Wesak smiled. "From that base. That last ship crashed, but the other four didn't."

Cera managed a shaky half-smile, dropping Ril's hand to throw her arms around her husband. Ril looked away, feeling intrusive but relieved to hear Wesak's news. Maybe other people were safe somewhere else, even if right now they were alone in the cave with only the trickling stream for company. All the soldiers were outside, laughing and chatting. She couldn't pick Fitch or Jud out from the others; they all looked so similar in their white armour. Their laughter seemed too loud, out of place compared to the emotions of the survivors.

Before her mood tipped into bleakness again or her nerve failed, Ril asked the question that had been eating away at her. "Wesak, what happened? I was in the woods and by the time I got back…"

Cera burst into tears again. Wesak folded her into his arms, the anger in his eyes fading as he rocked her back and forth. He quietly hushed Cera, smoothing her hair away from her face as he talked to Ril.

"I'm not really sure," he said flatly. "We were between towns, on our way back from visiting my folks at Landing. Suddenly there was a boom and a huge fireball behind us. We started running back to see if we could find Mum and Dad, but there were all these people screaming and running the other way. I remember pushing through the crowd, trying to see if they were there, but…" He stopped stroking Cera's hair. "The heat was too intense, Cera was scared, so we just turned and went the other way." His jaw tightened and he looked away.

Ril's mouth was dry. "Was it… , you know…?"

"Slavers?" He gave a half-shrug. "Dunno, but that's a bit of a funny way to go about it." He laughed bitterly. "Perhaps the old-timers had it right after all. You know, constant vigilance, stranger danger and all that." Cera's sobs had stopped, but he kept on rocking and soothing her. "I don't get how the soldiers fit into all this though." He nodded towards the various white-clad forms that shone in the afternoon light. "Probably just enforcers, keeping us under guard 'til they can cart us away."

"I don't think so…" Ril said with slow conviction, "…that doesn't make sense. The two that were with me seemed alright, they were brothers—older and younger. They kept calling me 'ma'am' the whole time—I've never known slavers who acted like that!" She grinned at Wesak, inviting him to share the joke but his frown just deepened.

Wesak's face twisted. "And you're an expert now?"

Ril bristled at the dismissal in his tone. "No more than you are, _farm boy_."

The anger was back in his eyes, but he couldn't move without disturbing Cera. "We can't trust them," he hissed. "We should leave them and go."

"Go where?" Ril challenged. "And what about the droids?"

His tone was sullen. "I can handle it."

Ril opened her mouth, but whatever incendiary comment she was about to make died unspoken. A soldier was coming into the cave, someone trailing behind him. Ril's heart leaped—another survivor!

The soldier strode over to them and Ril got a good look at his companion: it was Pani! Ril was overjoyed to see her boss, but something was wrong. She was quiet, her movements slack, face blank. What had happened to the martinet from the bakery? Where was the snap? Ril began to panic. Ril stared as the soldier got Pani to sit by pressing her shoulder until the older woman got the hint, her legs folding under her.

Ril was on her feet, in the soldier's face—or at least his helmet. "What happened?" she demanded. "Did she tell you what happened?"

That blank, black and white faceplate just gazed at her, calm and impassive. The soldier's voice when he spoke was anything but. "No, she didn't and no, I don't know," he snapped. "She's just in shock."

His voice was oddly familiar, almost like Jud's. Ril pushed past that mystery, determined to get to the bottom of this.

"Pani, what's the matter? What happened?" Ril pleaded. "I know you. You're stronger than this." Pani didn't answer and Ril took a step back. She glared at the soldier.

He held his ground. "She's _in shock_ , being strong has nothing to do with it. It's perfectly normal."

The soldier reached up and removed his helmet and Ril sucked in her breath. It was Jud's face, Fitch's face, only screwed up in a bad-tempered expression and with a scar straight as a ruler running along his chin. He took advantage of her silence and stalked out of the cave.

Rocked, Ril sat down, her mind whirling. How could he look—and sound, she amended—just like Jud and Fitch? Some gut instinct told her that they weren't brothers, couldn't be.

"Ril, you okay?" It was Wesak, worry in his voice. "Y'look pretty pale."

Ril ignored him, her mind racing over the last day. Was it just her imagination that Jud and Fitch were brothers? Had she made the whole thing up? Gods, she'd even called them that to their faces and neither had said anything! Had they been laughing quietly behind her back at her stupidity?

Small hands started rubbing hers. Ril tried to pull away, but couldn't. She looked up into Cera's face. The girl was peering at her, concern in her eyes.

"Are you okay, Ril?"

"Fine," Ril mumbled. She forced a smile and reclaimed her hands. "That soldier… he looks just like Fitch and Jud. Exactly like. How can that be?"

"Clones."

Everyone spun around to look at Pani.

Wesak's eyebrows rose. "Clones?"

"Were two of them. They had their helmets off, talking," Pani murmured. "One fell. Died. Other one mentioned it later when we were walking."

Ril suddenly felt really stupid. Clones, not brothers. Ril just knew she'd made an ass of herself and once again she'd only herself to blame. "Damn."

"What?"

Ril realised she'd spoken out loud. "Oh, nothing."

Ril turned her attention back to Pani, who was clutching something to her chest and gazing back into space. Ril leaned in towards the older woman, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Pani?"

It took a while, but slowly Pani looked at Ril who managed to plaster a broad smile on her face. "Hey, boss. How're you doing?"

In reply, Pani showed Ril what she was holding: a small doll with yellow strands of merlie wool for hair and a flowery smock. Ril's heart froze. "Oh no…" She didn't want to ask, but she had to know. "And Hinée? Toma?"

Pani nodded silently, tears welling up, and clutched the doll to her chest again.

Ril felt hot tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, a lump constricting her throat. "Oh Pani…" She didn't know what to say so instead she reached out, drawing Pani into a hug, feeling the warm wetness of tears on the neck of her shirt. Pani's life had revolved around the bakery, her husband Toma, and her grandchildren. Pani's grand-daughters, Hinée and little Nera, had been 'helping' Ril with the sweet pastry just a sevenday ago when Kiri had brought the girls to Haven visit their grandmother. Hinée would've been at school when… She flinched, remembering Wesak's words: _"a huge fireball where Landing was."_

They were still sitting like that—Ril and Pani hugging each other desperately, Wesak trying to calm Cera who had started weeping again—when a trooper came back into the cave. His helmet was tucked under one arm and he too had Jud's face. Ril just gazed at him, too numb and grief stricken to get angry. She noticed this was not the same man… same clone from before—this one had lines tattooed into his neck—and his face was polite and calm.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you all," he said in voice just like Jud's. "But the Sarge has called for briefing and everyone needs to be present."

* * *

There weren't nearly as many of them as there should be. Jud cast a critical eye over the survivors, clone and civvie alike. They were all currently shuffling around trying to find comfortable seating on unyielding rocky surface of the cave ledge. There were ten of them left from the massacre at the base: four civilians and five other troopers. The rendezvous deadline had come and gone with no word from the three missing pairs and Jud had to face the fact they wouldn't be coming. That didn't mean he was going to write them off. They'd all been marooned on this karking planet; he wasn't about to abandon the missing, but they needed a plan—a strategy should something go wrong, and for that he needed intel.

When everyone had finally settled down, Jud kicked off the briefing.

"Ladies, gentlemen, I'm sure everyone is aware of what our current situation is, but just to recap: we are behind enemy lines, trying to keep a low profile until the _Endeavour's_ return. Right now, we have the advantage. We have shelter, a water supply, and the clankers don't know we're here." Jud paused for breath, suddenly aware how hollow his own voice sounded. His mouth continued to talk even as his brain screeched to a halt. _Not again!_ Jud didn't like the feeling, but at least he was familiar with them. He heard himself go on.

"We can contact the _Endeavour_ when she arrives, but until that time we need to stay put, keep away from the droids and secure our food supplies. We're low on ammo and other equipment, so we can't afford to get into a shooting match with the tinnies."

The trickling of water punctuated the silence. In the dim light of the cave, the creek looked like a ribbon of blackness pouring from the pool and spilling out of the cavern to the forest below.

"What about the town, sir? Could we retrieve supplies from there or from the base?" Digger asked.

Jud saw himself shaking his head. "I did a bit of treetop recon. The smoke seemed to have died down, but there doesn't seem to be left of either the town or the base. I don't know if there are other towns further afield. As you gentlemen know, the pre-action intel was fairly scanty."

Helmets nodded as his brothers all acknowledged his last point. On the other side of the impromptu circle, the civilians looked puzzled.

The sole male civilian shook his head. "I don't understand."

"Normally we have a good idea of enemy numbers, positions, and the surrounding environment before we deploy," Jud explained. "This time—nothing. My platoon was told that there was Separatist activity on the ground. Our orders were to establish a forward observation post and hold it, whilst the Commander and the Captain went to speak to the locals—your folk." Jud went silent for a moment, struggling with himself. _Stay here!_ His sense of distance, removal from reality, didn't fade. He was still watching himself yattering away, explaining things to the civvies.

"The Commander and the Captain might've known more—they were on the bridge—but the extra intel didn't make its way to us. I don't know what happened in town—none of our people who went there returned." He looked squarely at the civilians, hearing himself say, "if any of you have any more information, we could really use it right now."

The other civilians shifted uneasily under his scrutiny, glancing at each other, fidgeting with hands and then looking at the ground. The shifty and confused glances reminded him of another time, cadets shrinking under the tirade of some commanding officer, unsure how they had failed. Even Ril was looking away. He let out a small sigh, a breath of disappointment.

Memory jarred Jud, dropping him back in control. He recalled that Ril had been tense when Fitch arrived, but she had relaxed once she knew Fitch's name. Jud had a thought. Perhaps if he introduced everyone…?

"Apologies, sir, ma'am. Army training, you know." He shrugged.

"I'm Jud." He nodded as he pointed out the other clones. "This is Fitch, Stolli, Stretch—he's our medic, Meer, and Digger." The civilians all mumbled hello's. He noticed that Ril's head had come up and she was staring at the men, scrutinising faces. "And you are…?" he prompted.

It was the man who answered him. "I'm Wesak. This is Cera—my wife, Ril, and Pani."

The pretty blonde who seemed to do a lot of crying was Cera. Wesak had looped a possessive arm around her waist. He looked to be the same age as Fitch with a familiar stubborn look in his eyes. Pani was a plain woman in her fifties with greying hair cut short, surprisingly well-muscled arms, and eyes that seemed to see everything and nothing. Someone would have to keep an eye on her until she was herself again. Jud knew that look much better than he would ever admit. Ril was watching the ground, unusually quiet. Jud remembered he'd need to ask Fitch to take over as her buddy; now that he'd been put in charge, he needed to focus on the well-being of the group as a whole rather than any one person.

Wesak broke the silence before it became uncomfortable. He seemed to be the most talkative of the civvies. "Cera and I weren't in town when it happened," he began. "We saw a fireball coming up from Landing. We came through Haven, but you soldiers were already there then."

Jud made a mental note that the two settlements were called Landing and Haven.

Wesak continued the story. "We tried to see what had happened, but those droids were everywhere, firing at everyone. We ran into the woods. We got to your base and well… you know the rest."

The blonde, Cera, started to sob and Wesak hugged her to him.

Something about the way Wesak had worded things caught Jud's attention. He had to ask. "You mentioned 'those droids'. Had you seen them before?"

"Yes." It was Ril who answered him. "A pod full of droids crash-landed about a month back, right on top of our shuttle. They seemed… okay? They just wanted to fix their ship and make amends for trashing our shuttle. In fact, they kept apologising for ruining the colony's long-range scanners and insisted on helping out around the place."

It sounded highly suspect to Jud. Battle droids were built for one purpose and it wasn't to help civvies plant flowers and wash windows… or whatever it was civvies did.

Stolli, who was obviously thinking the same thing, interrupted. "Clankers don't infiltrate," he stated. "They don't do subtle."

Jud frowned at him. "Stolli—shut it." But the damage was done, Ril clammed up again.

Jud opened his mouth to ask her a question, but it was the vacant woman that spoke, cradling something to her chest, one hand plucking at the hem of her shirt.

"Toma was home for the midday meal, I was in the kitchen… There was a rumble, and a light in the sky. I ran outside; everyone was out in the street looking up at a huge cloud of smoke coming from the direction of Landing. Then the screams started…" Pani's voice trailed off.

As Jud watched, Ril slipped a hand into the older woman's, squeezing tightly. That seemed to do the trick and Pani resumed her story. "There were soldiers in white, droids, blaster fire everywhere; just like they'd told us would happen. We should've been ready… A soldier told us to head for the forest, that there would be help there—so we ran. We were at the edge of the trees when there was huge boom. I looked back and saw a wall of fire sweeping through Haven. It wasn't normal fire though. Trees, buildings, people were all gone, but the droids that came out of the explosion looked like nothing had happened to them. Then the droids were at the base and Toma—" she broke off, staring into the distance again.

Memory niggled and Jud realised he'd seen Pani before. She was the one weeping over a dead man after the SBD's had attacked him and Hops. She was the one who put the little girl on that last doomed larty. She was the one that had fallen and knocked the wind out him. It was her.

"Pani… Pani!" Ril was gently shaking the other woman's shoulder. "What about my parents—did you see them?"

Pani's brow creased as she responded to the urgency, the need, in Ril's voice. "I didn't see anyone coming out of the town. T—, Toma and I were the last."

Jud's heart sank. Captain Bede. First, Second, and Fourth Platoons. All gone. It didn't look like anyone was going to show up and lead them all out of here. It was just him.


	10. Discovery and Exit, Stage Left

Jud's quest for answers was rudely interrupted by Meer, who'd been keeping an eye on the entrance to their gully. Meer's voice blared out of the helmet at Jud's waist.

"We've got company! I count four patrols of B1's headed our way!"

All the clones sprang to their feet, reaching for weapons and donning their helmets. Cera clung to Wesak. Ril let out a yelp. Jud spun round to see her extracting her hand from Pani's, wiggling her fingers gingerly. Jud muffled a curse. Four patrols, almost fifty droids. He should've come up with an exit strategy _before_ the briefing, now they were womp-rats caught in a trap. _So much for making the right decision,_ he thought bitterly.

"How did they find us?" Cera's voice climbed an octave in her panic.

"Doesn't matter now, love." Wesak tried to soothe his wife.

All helmets turned towards Jud, waiting for orders. His brain seemed to be moving in slow motion. _Was this what it felt like to be in command? Like wading through sludge?_

Ril bolted up, an arm outstretched. "I see something moving in the trees!" she shouted.

Digger swung around and snapped off two shots in the direction that she was pointing. A remote fell with a clunk amidst a clatter of splintered branches, a solid ball of metal and circuitry hissing where Digger's shots had melted them. Digger picked it up and looked it over. "Spy droid." He sounded disgusted, but held onto the wreckage. "Good spotting, ma'am. Looks like they know we're here!"

"We can't hold out for long, sir," said Stretch, looking at Jud. "We don't have the ammo for an extended engagement."

Wesak stood up, eyes hard. "I can shoot. Give me a gun!"

Cera let out a squeak of protest just as Jud shook his head. "Sorry, kid, but we're in no shape to take them head on. In any case, we've no spare weapons."

Wesak scowled. Anger flashed in his eyes. "I'm not about to sit here like a tame nerf waiting to be killed!"

"How long 'til they get here, Meer?" Jud asked.

"I'd say we've got about ten minutes—tops."

 _Stang._ Jud took a deep breath, trying to untangle his jumbled thoughts. They needed a plan. For as Wesak had charmingly pointed out—they were out of options.

Meer called back over the comms _._ "Looks like they're spoiling for a fight, sir. I count two patrols of SBD's bringing up the rear."

 _Another twenty odd droids—just great._ In Meer's POV, Jud could see a column of droids starting to clear the tree line below them.

Jud tried to think quickly. He had six decees between the ten of them and a whole mess of clankers coming up the gully. Any attempt to flee over the hills would expose them to enemy fire. The situation was complicated by the fact that the tinnies knew they were here. If they tried to run, the droids would just follow and unlike the civvies, they didn't need to rest. Wiki had been the sergeant. Jud wondered, what would he do now? If there was another way out, Jud couldn't see it.

He started rapping out orders. "Fitch—take the civvies over the hills. Everyone else—link up with Meer. We'll try and stall them for as long as we can, buy the civvies some time. Let's move it, boys!" The other clones nodded and headed off towards the observation point. Jud popped out his wrist communicator from his gauntlet and turned to give it to Ril. If anything happened to Fitch, she and the others would have a way of contacting the _Endeavour_. He held it out to her. "This is a com-link," he said. "It'll flash green when _Endeavour_ returns."

She waved it aside. "You're just going to do that stupid last stand thing again, aren't you?" she demanded, face ashen.

"No other way, ma'am." Jud said, a lot more calmly than he felt. Why couldn't she just take the karking com-link already? Couldn't she see how many of his brothers had already died to keep her and the others alive?

"No, it's not!"

He thought for a moment that he'd misheard. "What?"

"There's a path that goes leads from that pool,"—she pointed to the dark shape at the back of the cave—"and goes through the tunnels and comes out on the other side of the hills."

Jud glared at her. When he spoke, his tone was arctic. "Why didn't you say so before?"

"Ril! Don't!" It was Wesak who was giving Ril a _look_. She matched him stare for stare before turning back to Jud.

"It's complicated." She wouldn't meet his eyes.

In the corner of his eye, Jud saw Wesak tugging Cera and Pani towards the inky pool. _She's only bringing this up now?_ Jud glared at Ril as the _chonk-chonk_ of droid feet grew ever closer. Amplified by the cave, it sounded as though a whole battalion was coming to kill them instead of a company. _Nice of her to let me know before one of my men gets killed_ , Jud thought darkly. "Are you certain that the path is still there?" he asked, voice curt.

"Yes." Her response was firm, meeting his eyes as though she was trying to stare him down. Jud held his ground and Ril was the first to look away.

Blaster fire started up outside—Meer and the others had engaged the droids. Jud made a hasty decision. It was the only one he had left and he hoped he wouldn't get them all killed. "Right, we'll do it your way. Get your people into the tunnels."

Ril fled into the cave, calling to the other civilians.

Jud swung around as the sound of fresh blaster fire echoed in the cave. He saw the rectangular shape of Fitch's pack lying abandoned on the dirt floor, a few thermal detonators had spilled out. The glimmering of an idea came to him.

He opened a comm channel to the others. "New plan, men, we're getting out of here. It seems there's a way out of this Hutt-hole. Stolli—get back here. Everyone else, hold 'em as long as you can before you fall back. Don't get cocky—I need as much help as I can get with these kriffing civvies." There was a smattering of dark chuckles and muttered affirmatives over the channel.

Jud cast a glance into the cave to see Ril sliding into the pitch-black pool. She went under the surface of the water and didn't come up. Movement caught his eye and he whipped around to see Stolli sprinting towards him.

"Sir?" Stolli asked.

"Long story short: tunnel through the pool,"—Jud pointed with one hand as he scooped up the thermal dets with the other and began piling them into Stolli's arms—"we rig the mouth of the cave with every piece of ordinance we've got, once everyone is clear, we'll remote detonate."

"Sounds like a plan, sir." A slow smile spread across Stolli's face as he tucked a few detonators into his belt pouches.

"Glad you approve." Jud glared. "Now shift it!"

The distinct _bdapp bdapp_ of clone blaster fire was now almost drowned out by the high-pitched whine of droid blasters. He could hear the others calling to each other over the com-link, coordinating their fire and covering each other. There was a brief cry of pain, making Jud grit his teeth. He and Stolli darted around the cave entrance, making sure that each grenade was on a load-bearing point. They didn't have to collapse the whole cliff face: gravity would do that for them. Once the explosives were in place, Jud left Stolli to assemble the detonator while he grabbed Fitch's pack.

"Sir, we're taking heavy fire." It was Stretch, his voice loud over the background of blaster fire. "Digger got creased."

"It's a scratch!" Digger retorted. "I'm fine."

"Fall back," Jud ordered. "Explosives are in place."

"Copy that, sir."

Jud turned to Stolli, who held up the fruits of his labour. "Prime the detonator, Stolli."

"Yes, sir!"

It was time for them to get out of here. First Stretch, then Meer and Digger all pelted past him into the cave. Jud was about to check the wiring for the last time when Stolli grabbed his arm.

"After you, sir! They're not too far behind!"

Jud took a deep breath and jumped into the pool. He expected to hit bottom at any point but instead, the small pool widened into a hidden reservoir a meter or so below the surface. The water was pitch-black so Jud switched over to night vision. He could feel the intense cold seeping through the joints in his armour.

Digger's armour shone pale green in the murky darkness in front of him. Jud took a shallow breath, grateful for the complete seal his armour provided. It could hold up in the total vacuum of space for up to ten minutes so a dip in an underground river was no big deal, provided he didn't get stuck. Still, there was something wrong about breathing casually underwater. Every instinct screamed at him to hold his breath even when it wasn't necessary.

They followed the tunnel down, then up around a hairpin loop, the pack on his back scraped and stuck for a heart-rending moment, before Jud wrenched it free. The narrow tunnel veered to the left then finally they were going up. Jud surfaced with a gasp, hearing Digger splashing and puffing beside him.

Jud looked around as he trod water. He caught a glimpse of Pani and the other civilians on a rocky outcropping. There was some light, but it looked very dim. The civvies wouldn't be able to see anything. There was a blinding flash of light as someone turned their headlamps on, no doubt thinking along the same lines as him.

"KILL THAT LIGHT!"

And it was suddenly dark again. A distorted copy of Ril's shout echoed from the walls around them Jud wondered at the culprit's automatic response to Ril's order. It wasn't that she was in charge… or was she? Something about her tone commanded obedience—just like the Sergeant. Why was light bad though? Perhaps Ril knew something he didn't? Jud filed that tidbit away for future use as splashes behind him heralded the arrival of someone else, Stolli he hoped.

"Stolli?"

"Yes sir!"

"Blow the charges. No need to make the clankers' job any easier."

A muffled boom reverberated through the walls. Jud felt the water ripple around him and heard small plinks as pebbles and dust rained down from the ceiling. Jud hoped that his demolitions instructor from Kamino never heard about this, she would ream him a new one, detonating explosives with friendlies in an enclosed space. Just as well she wasn't here.

The chamber felt huge, the sides disappearing the darkness where there was no light for his night-vis to amplify.

"Good job. Now let's get out of here," Jud said. "This water feels like it belongs on Hoth."

Meer reached out and helped Jud drag himself onto the rough rock. Through his night vision, Jud could see Stretch was strapping a bacta patch on Digger's arm. He made his way over to the medic.

"Sorry, sir," Digger apologised. "One of the clankers managed to clip me, melted a nice line clean through my armour."

"Got cocky, didn't you, Digger?" Jud teased, relieved that it wasn't more serious.

"It won't happen again, Sarge."

Over Jud's objections, his brothers had started calling him 'sir' and 'Sarge', making him squirm every time he heard it. He wasn't even a sergeant for kriff's sake! Sir was for officers and brothers who were solid; who knew what to do, and didn't panic and sweat like crazy when they had to make a decision. Jud was no 'sir'. He took a deep breath and tried to put his own doubts out of mind.

He prayed that this escape route lived up to the hype. After all, not only did the idea of wandering lost in a labyrinth of cave tunnels didn't appeal; it could be downright disastrous! He had to hand it to the people that discovered this place. He would never have guessed that the small pool in the cave at the rendezvous point was the entrance to a cave system. Hopefully, when the droids managed to clear away the debris and enter the cave, the idea wouldn't occur to them either. Someone bumped into him from behind and apologised, teeth chattering. It sounded like Ril. He turned around, it was Ril shivering and staring past him into the gloom.

"Whatever you do," she said, "don't turn on any lights! You'll kill the moss."

Over the comm, Jud heard Meer muttering. "Oh of course not, can't hurt the _moss_ now, can we?"

"Put a sock in it, Meer," Jud reluctantly rebuked his brother, even though he felt much the same way. Unfortunately having been put in charge, sarcasm was no longer an option for him, even if he privately thought that Ril might've deserved it for holding out on them earlier. Jud sucked it up—sergeants weren't supposed to be affected by personal feelings.

"Moss, ma'am?" Jud questioned.

"There's a trail of bioluminescent moss that leads through the tunnel. Light kills it, so no torches or lamps. If we wait for a bit, hopefully the carbon dioxide in our breath will perk it up enough to start glowing again."

She sounded confident, but in his night-vis Jud saw the spasm of shivering that wracked her. If he'd thought the water was cold through armour… He took the pack off his back and rummaged around. He drew out the thin blanket from the previous night and flipped it out, twirling it around Ril's shoulders. She gasped and started when she felt the movement near her.

"Just me, ma'am," he said. "We've only the one blanket though, so you'll have to share with the others."

"Okay," she chattered.

It was still black as anything, but if this moss stuff glowed and CO2 was the 'ON' switch… Jud popped his helmet off, the seals hissing quietly as he did so. "Sun bonnets off, gentlemen, better give this moss a hand. Permission to breathe heavily…" Jud blushed at his own absurd command as snorts of suppressed laughter started to fill the air. "In your own time, of course," he amended. "Go on."

"Heavy breathing commencing, sir… stand by," Meer quipped.

Jud tried not to laugh at the ridiculous parade of noises that issued from the men. _Well, I guess that's what I get for giving such a stupid order._ He couldn't stop the relief that washed over him: they were all still alive! The pitch black was slowly lit up by a faint glow. That must be the moss. He grinned at the absurdity of the situation as he leaned over a nearby patch of moss and breathed on it some more.

He bet that Ril was loving this. He'd discovered she loved plants when he'd noticed she was leaving a trail of plucked flowers and leaves behind her—not the smartest thing to do when being tracked by hostile forces. Ril, it turned out, was an amateur botanist and her bag was crammed full of plant specimens. The two hour march to the cave had been punctuated by her briefings on the properties of the various plants around them, beaming when they recognised a plant and pointed it out to her. Come to think of it, she hadn't smiled for a while now…

After a few moments, the moss did its thing and a faint blue glow lit up the small space. Jud finally got a good look at their surrounds. Pale stalactites and stalagmites honeycombed the room, which sloped upwards from the pool, and rocks they were currently standing on. The civilians and his brothers glowed an eerie blue. The overall effect was one of stunning otherworldly beauty. _Hops would love this, he always got a kick out of weird alien stuff,_ Jud thought to himself.

Jud swung the ruck back over his shoulders. "That's enough breathing, boys; the moss is…"—he tried to choose his next word carefully—"…satisfied."

Ahead of him, the brilliant trail of moss snaked upwards, winding through the maze of rock formations, and vanished into a dark opening. Jud looked back. The men looked set, decees at the ready once more, helmets on their belts. Wesak was hugging Cera to him—those two seemed joined at the hip, whilst Pani and Ril were sharing the blanket and looking very much like a Troig—two heads protruding from the grey folds of fabric.

"Everyone good to go?" He asked. There was a smattering of nods. "Right, follow me."


	11. Tunnel Tensions

It turned out that they didn't need lamps after all. The moss trail wound its way through the caverns and tunnels, a gleaming blue ribbon. It apparently didn't seem to like being stood on; the blue glow fading under their feet. It wasn't until the third cavern though, that Jud's feeling that he wasn't getting the whole story was rammed home.

"Hey!" Digger's shout echoed amongst the pale mineral pillars.

Jud spun around, decee up, just in time to see Ril dart off the path towards a large pillar that rose out of the floor in a manner uncomfortably like a Geonosian hive spire. She vanished behind it. Jud caught Fitch's eye and gestured after her. Fitch hesitated, but trotted after the vexatious woman.

"Can someone give me a hand?" Ril's voice drifted out from behind the column. "Oh, Fitch! Now you grab that end…"

Jud waited, wringing his decee's grip nervously, for the two errant members of the group to return. When they did, they had a bulky crate slung between them. They set it down carefully on the moss, which promptly went dark in protest.

Ril was avoiding eye contact with Jud, struggling with the latches on the lid. She swore and then started rubbing her palms on her thighs. "My fingers are too numb," she complained. "I can't get the lock."

Wesak detached Cera from his side, adding her to the grey, blanket-covered lump that was Pani. With a few deft movements, he unfastened the latches and pushed the lid away wordlessly. Job done, he stalked away from Ril, his back stiff, and returned to Cera. Jud signalled Meer to keep an eye on their surroundings before he stepped up to inspect Ril's find. Inside the sturdy container was pouch after pouch of non-perishable food, water canisters, and most importantly—blankets. Stretch, in his medic mode, started distributing the blankets amongst the civilians, who were starting to shiver quite violently.

Jud coughed pointedly. "Stretch."

The medic looked up from where he was busy swathing Cera in blankets under Wesak's mistrustful gaze. "Sir?"

"Quick break. Get a hot drink into them; a four percent decee blast from ten meters will heat a full canteen of water."

Stretch grinned, his worry lines fading. "Yes, sir!"

Jud 'reheated' his own canteen then scooped it off the cavern floor and headed towards Ril who was standing some distance away from the others, doing her best to be invisible under two ancient-looking blankets. He handed over the canteen and she murmured her thanks.

Jud cut to the chase, his voice low. "You knew the supplies would be there." It was a statement, not a question. She hesitated—wondering what to say to him perhaps, so he pressed his advantage. "Ma'am, this could be difference between success and failure. I _need_ to know."

He saw it in her eyes, the moment when she caved. When she weighed up whatever taboo or rules that she'd lived by and ignored them; trusting him.

"This colony," she began, "it's new—only four generations old. That's why there are only two settlements; why we have no spaceport. The colony founders, our great-grandparents, decided they were tired of running. So when they came across this planet... they decided to stay."

Jud interrupted. "Running? From what?"

She shrugged. "Slavers, hunters, anyone who might take them back to the mines. That's what my people are… slaves that made it out before everyone was killed to make way for the new, _efficient"—_ she spat the word out—"clone workers." Jud just stood, looking at her and trying to take it all in. Ril kept talking, seemingly taking Jud's silence for doubt. She seemed very anxious that he believe her. "They rebelled, thousands and thousands of them, stole ships, ran and didn't stop. They were the first and the last slave uprising." She looked at him sidelong, eyes sad. "Slavers started putting in implants after that so no other slaves got the same idea."

"Thousands?"

"Not everyone wanted to stop. The others kept going."

The isolation of the colony was starting to make sense now. "If they had stopped in the Outer Rim… " Jud said slowly.

"They would've been turned over their former masters, made into examples, and their children enslaved again," Ril completed. "They didn't trust anyone so they had to look further afield."

One thing still didn't make sense to Jud. "If the founders didn't trust strangers…" Jud asked, "…then why didn't the arrival of the droids cause a panic?"

Jud waited. For the longest time, he wasn't sure if she would answer him, but then her head came up. Ril's eyes were bright with unshed tears, guilt and sadness etched into her face. "Because we thought their fear of outsiders was silly and unnecessary." Her voice so small and fragile, almost drowned out in the murmurs that carried from the rest of the survivors.

"Because we thought we knew better. Because…" she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears, "…we thought we were _safe_."

* * *

Fitch wondered what Ril and the Sarge were talking about. It seemed to be pretty serious; they were both getting in each other's faces and angry snatches of hushed conversation echoed off the walls, the words were distorted, but the tone was not. Should he intervene?

A hand came down on his shoulder. Fitch looked around to see Digger looking at him.

"Stand down, rookie. The Sarge has got this." The other man smiled. "Come and give me a hand filling up this pack."

Fitch trailed after the older clone, glancing back occasionally. Now it almost looked like Ril was hugging Jud. His eyes must be playing tricks on him, because Fitch was fairly sure that wasn't in the regs. His musings were interrupted when Digger shoved his pack towards his midriff and Fitch was soon totally absorbed in trying to subvert the laws of physics and cram in more volume than actually existed.

"Fitch."

He looked up to see that Jud was back, Ril tagging behind him. Fitch saluted, but Jud waved it away.

"Fitch, Ril is your charge now. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Fitch said.

"And Ril is not going to run off again, right?" That remark was presumably aimed at Ril.

"Yes," she said. Her voice sounded a bit funny, but Jud chose that moment to replace his bucket and protocol dictated that Fitch follow suit.

"Now can everyone please stay on the path?" Jud's voice echoed slightly as it came out of his helmet's speakers.

The Sarge assigned Fitch and Stolli to the back of the column before he grabbed one end of the bulky crate and Meer took hold of the other. Digger offered to take point and the Sarge let him. Fitch regretted not being paired with Digger, who seemed to be always cheery. Stolli on the other hand, was just there. He didn't grumble, didn't mutter, he just walked beside Fitch and kept an eagle on the civvies in front of them.

Ahead, the ghostly trail of moss wound along the tunnel floor. Channelled into a single file column, everyone's profile formed a shadowy silhouette on the tunnel ceiling. If Fitch unfocused his eyes, the rear shot on his HUD merged with the view in front to form a ghostly train track of light and shadowy faces. Almost like a dream.

Fitch tried to start a conversation with Stolli, but the other clone was busy reciting the specs of various explosives under his breath. The civilians were silent in their blanket casings. Fitch tried humming to himself, but " _Vode An"_ was the only song he knew and it didn't really lend itself to quiet humming and he gave up after a while.

The forest trek yesterday had been bad enough for blurring time, but at least you could guess where the sun was by the brightness of the light on the leaf litter. That wasn't true in these caves. Here, Fitch had to rely on his chrono and his body's circadian responses to keep time. His stomach had complained at least twice now, so they'd probably missed a couple of meals.

"Hold up!" Digger suddenly called out.

Ahead of them, a huge rock face loomed out of the black. The ribbon of moss led down under the slab, lighting up a small crawl space. Everyone clustered around it. Jud and Meer carefully set down the crate. It was obvious that it wasn't going to fit through that gap.

"Digger!" Jud called out.

"Yes, sir!"

"I need you to scout ahead; double check that space leads somewhere."

"Yes, sir!" Digger snapped to attention and then wormed his way into the crawl space, vanishing from sight.

Canteens of water were passed around while they waited. Fitch made sure that Ril drank something. She seemed to be sticking to the older civilian woman, Pani, so Fitch got them both canteens. He'd noticed that Pani tended to zone out easily. It was probably just as well that Ril was keeping an eye on her. Likewise, it was convenient that the other two, Wesak and Cera, were paired up, though that was partly due to the fact that Wesak glared daggers at anyone who got close to Cera.

Digger was back after a few minutes, squirming out from under the crawl space and puffing slightly from his exertions. "The crawl space goes for about thirty metres," he reported. "It comes out at the bottom of a three meter high step. From what I saw, the tunnel looks like it continues as normal at the top of the step."

"Looks like it's going to be a bit of a tight squeeze then," Stolli remarked, in the longest sentence he'd said since they'd left the inky pool of water. "I sure hope no one's been pigging out on Kor Vella twists."

* * *

"Keep up, shiny! You're lagging behind!" Meer sniped at Fitch, his voice echoing slightly in the close environment.

"Just covering our tracks."

Jud checked behind him. Sure enough, Fitch was methodically stomping on the mossy path as they passed so that no glow would give away their location.

"Good thinking, rookie," Stretch commented.

Digger laughed at Meer's dramatic sigh. "Sorry, Meer, it looks like you are still bottom of Typhoon's brainy list."

"Oh well. You know how it goes, Digger. You may've got Jango's brains, but I got his good looks."

"Yeah right, pretty boy."

Everyone burst out laughing at Digger's remark. Everyone except one.

"How can you be laughing at a time like this!" Cera's hysterical shriek sliced through the casual atmosphere. "We're stuck in a tunnel with a bunch of killer droids after us and no way out!"

"It's not like that, ma'am. All we have to do is follow the path and we'll get out of here." Fitch tried to pacify the irate woman.

"Like you know! Every soldier had a person with them when they left the base—so where's yours?" she screamed. "We don't stand a chance!"

Jud was impressed by the venom that the little blonde managed to inject into her tone, but Fitch reeled back under Cera's verbal onslaught as though he'd been slugged in the gut.

The sudden crack of flesh on flesh echoed in the tunnel. "You shut your mouth! He did the best he could!" Ril was face to face with Cera, yelling at her. Cera held a hand to her cheek where Ril had struck her, then burst into tears and fled back the way they'd come.

"Cera!" Wesak grabbed for her, but she was gone. He took a step towards Ril, his face thunderous.

Ril held her ground. Jud felt himself tense as Fitch stepped in between them. Fitch's movement seemed to jolt Wesak out of his mood and he took off after Cera, calling for her.

With Wesak gone, Ril wilted—it was the only adequate description of it. Jud saw Fitch grab her under the arm, slowing her descent as she sat down with a thump. She was staring at her hands as though she'd suddenly sprouted tentacles. Pani rushed to her side as Fitch was supported her on the other.

Jud groaned inwardly. He should've seen this coming. Everyone's temper was frayed thin by the fear of discovery and a lack of rest and food. He should've made them stop for a break ages ago. Another mistake.

He heard Meer whistle over the com-link—"good _hit_!"—and shut the connection. He couldn't think about the men right now; two of his charges were blundering around in the dark, one of them hysterical. The last thing he needed was everyone wandering off on their own.

"I'll go after them," Stretch volunteered. He tapped the side of his helmet. "Night-vis. And don't worry about Ril, she's just in shock—I don't think she's hit anyone before."

"Thanks, Stretch."

"Not a problem, sir." Stretch vanished, a blue-tinted ghost fading into the blackness. That was one problem solved…

Fitch caught Jud looking at Ril and gave him a surreptitious thumbs up even as he and Pani kept talking, low and calmly, to Ril. Good lad!

The rest of the men were quiet and rigid; that unnatural quiet that usually meant they were talking on a comm channel and rigidity that meant they were suppressing all the normal tells of conversation. Jud turned on his comms again just in time to hear Stolli say dourly, "—that's what you get when you try to talk to civvies."

"Come on, they aren't all like that," Digger protested.

"You weren't stuck with that woman for a whole day. Wesak at least seems to have a sense of humour," Stolli griped.

"You know what they say…" Meer remarked. "If you don't have a sense of humour…"

The others chorused, "… then you shouldn't have joined the army!"

It was an old joke, a way of laughing at something that would otherwise drive you to rage or despair. A thin veneer that helped them cope. The civvies weren't the only ones that were worn down. They all needed a break. Jud waited until they had stopped laughing, then started talking out loud so that Ril and Pani could hear. "We'll stop here for the night. Meer, Digger—you're on first watch. Stolli—you and I will take second. I want everyone to get something to eat and drink before you sleep."

"Copy that, Sarge." Meer saluted and headed off down the tunnel ahead to set up a sentry point. Digger headed back the way they came to watch their rear.

Jud took his helmet off and clipped it to his belt. He forced a grin and looked at Stolli. "Looks like you and I are in charge of setting up camp."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stolli's Kor Vella twist comment is a nod towards the wonderful collaborative story "Captain Rex and the Last Cheese Pretzel" from FFN's Queen, laloga, and LongLiveTheClones.


	12. Sympathy and Empathy

Humans did not do well in confined spaces.

For his part, Jud was quite ready to see blue skies again. There was something about being in a labyrinth of tunnels with no exit in sight that grated on your mind. Something about the musty, damp air that reminded you that this was no place for people. The incident between Ril and Cera was by far the most obvious display of the strain that everyone was under, but it wasn't the only one.

During an otherwise normal debate about the merits and demerits of DC-15's and DC-17's, Stretch had told Meer bluntly what he thought of his opinion and Meer—being Meer—had taken it personally. Digger had managed to patch things over, but both men were still prickly. As for Ril and Cera… The civvies had split into two camps: Cera and Wesak on one side and Ril on the other. Both sides seemed to determined to ignore each other. The only people who seemed to be unaffected by the tension were Pani and Stolli, both of whom had come out of their shells slightly; even exchanging a few lines of conversation. They weren't Jud's biggest problem right now.

Fitch wasn't doing well.

The rookie had withdrawn from everyone, carrying out his tasks, but not saying a word. He'd also been forgetful, losing his train of thought easily, and Jud had caught him spacing out more than once. Jud hadn't seen him this disturbed since that first night in the treetop. Something had to be done.

Jud caught Fitch's eye and motioned to one of the side tunnels. "Fitch, a word."

* * *

Ril glanced up as Jud and Fitch vanished down a side tunnel, then went back to staring at the dark footprints in the mossy path. The thunk of boots against stone faded into the distance, the sound becoming distorted as it echoed back down the tunnel towards her. She hoped that the two men wouldn't get lost.

Everyone else was sleeping in a huddle in the middle of the cavern in a bid to keep out the heat-sapping chill of the stone floors. The ribbon of moss glowed blue beside the blanketed pile, footsteps showing where the sentries had gone ahead to make sure that nothing crept up on them. The tunnels seemed lifeless, no insects or plants aside from the ubiquitous moss, so Ril wasn't sure why the soldiers bothered to keep watch. Maybe that's all they knew how to do.

Cera was sandwiched between Wesak and Pani, a pile of blankets on top of them. The soldiers, Meer and Digger, were also huddled together in sleep, armour gleaming in the faint glow of the moss. Removing their helmets was the only concession to comfort that they seemed to make. The injured one, Digger, was covered in blankets, the pins from a bacta patch gleaming on his bicep. Ril shook her head at the waste without thinking, then frowned. They were from the Republic, so they probably didn't have the shortage of supplies, medical and otherwise, that had plagued her people recently. With no shuttle to do trading in, both towns had quickly run out of those supplies that they didn't manufacture themselves.

Ril rolled over and grunted in discomfort as something sharp jabbed her in her ribs. She felt under the blanket mattress and pulled out a small stone. Tossing it aside, she lay back down and tried to get comfortable. She was as tired as she'd ever been, so why couldn't she sleep? She rolled again. Beside her, Pani protested in her sleep, mehing and mumbling. Ril sighed and gave up on sleeping for now. Carefully, so as not to disturb Pani further, she slid out from the huddle and went to sit by the pile of supplies. Careful eyes watched her go.

After a moment, there was a rustling from behind her, different from the snorts and murmurs of the sleepers. Wesak came to sit beside Ril, who looked at him warily. He hadn't said anything to her since their confrontation earlier, but neither had Cera for that matter. Not since the fight at least. After they'd run off, the medic—easily distinguishable by the flash of red on his shoulder armour—had led them back to the others. As usual, Wesak had his arm around Cera. Ril had half expected that he would say something, but they'd walked right past her. Perhaps he'd just been waiting for a time like this, when they were alone. She glanced at the soldiers, but they were apparently fast asleep. She was thinking about re-joining the group of sleepers when Wesak spoke.

"I'm sorry."

Whatever she was expecting, it wasn't that. Ril tried to speak, but the sides of her throat seemed stuck together. Jud had started rationing out their water supplies; she hadn't had a drink for a while now. Wesak didn't seem to hear her croak and kept talking.

"I didn't mean to frighten you earlier... I wasn't thinking."

Ril cleared her throat and tried again. "Thank you—for apologising." Wesak kept looking at her like he was expecting something, an apology maybe, and Ril started to get annoyed. "What?"

"Aren't you going to say sorry too? For hitting Cera?"

Ril settled for the least offensive reply she could think of. "No. And I'm not going to. She deserved it for what she said to Fitch."

Wesak's expression darkened. "He's a soldier. He'll deal with it."

"He might not," Ril insisted.

She watched as Wesak withdrew, standing up to face her. "Don't you get it? He's a clone, remember? The founders were almost wiped out because of lab-people like him!" He hissed.

He was too loud. They were going to wake someone at this rate. "Keep your voice down!" Ril whispered harshly as she could, matching his anger with her own. She did her best to ignore his venomous words, but they seemed to echo the doubts that the small, dark and poisonous part of her mind kept taunting her with. She was too late.

"Perhaps this could wait for when it is _not_ the middle of the night?" The rough voice was familiar.

Ril looked over and saw Pani was sitting up, blanket wrapped around her like a cloak. Ril blushed and Wesak seemed similarly chagrined.

"I'm sorry, Mizz Eriki," he offered.

"Why are you both up so late?" Pani asked.

Ril didn't want to answer. She glanced at Wesak, but he didn't look like he would start talking anytime soon either. She opened her mouth, only to have Wesak speak at the same time.

"Wesak was—"

"Ril told—"

They both broke off. Ril indicated that Wesak should go first.

"Ril told the clones about the founders and the path. It wasn't her right. Not when they could turn out to be just as bad as the droids." Wesak said, crossing his arms.

Pani just listened and said nothing, so Ril added her two credits.

"They have done nothing but help us," Ril insisted. "They couldn't be farther from droids. How could I not help them in return?"

Pani looked at Wesak. "I agree with Ril, Wesak. The soldiers have been kind and they have done their best to keep us safe. Perhaps you judge them too soon."

Wesak was clearly not happy with Pani's statement, his face taut and closed off. "You're both being naïve." He stalked back to Cera's sleeping form and curled down around her.

Ril gave Pani a half-smile. "It's good to have you back, boss."

* * *

"Fitch, a word."

Jud set off down a side tunnel and the younger clone followed him obediently. Sound travelled in the caves, but if they kept their voices down, they shouldn't be overheard. It wasn't by any means private, but it was as good as they were going to get. The tunnel loomed darkly in front of them. There was no moss here, so Jud flicked on his headlamps, two reassuring yellow pools of light appearing in front of him as he strode down the tunnel. When he was satisfied that they were far enough away, Jud popped his helmet seals, easing it off before he took a seat on a rock formation. Fitch made no move to follow his lead.

"C'mon, rookie. Bucket off." Jud motioned.

"Yes, sir." Fitch sounded reluctant, but took his helmet off nonetheless.

 _Pray to the powers be that I don't stuff this up._ Jud took a breath and tried to remember everything he'd learnt from his sergeants and CO's over the years, how they handled awkward situations. "Look, Fitch, I know I haven't known you all that long, but even I can tell that you are off."

"Off… sir?" Fitch sounded puzzled.

"Not at the top of your game, not focused." Jud elaborated. "There's only a few of us left to get these civilians to safety. I need every one of my men to be a hundred percent. So whatever it is that has got you in a funk needs to end; right here, right now."

Jud waited, but Fitch remained silent. He just sat there looking at the helmet in his lap. Jud cut to the chase. "Eyes front, Fitch. Get it off your chest."

"Sir…uh…"

Jud hated himself for throwing his new authority around like this. It felt like he was mindlessly parroting the phrases and postures of all the officers that he'd ever served with. During the rest break earlier, he'd caught himself doing Wiki's characteristic pacing combination; pace three steps one way, four steps the other, and scuffing his left boot on the tunnel floor. Now, for the umpteenth time, he wished for a _real_ sergeant, a proper one, who knew what to do and when to do it. A sergeant who would get them through this.

Jud paused a moment to shake his misgivings away. Maybe he didn't need to be a sergeant right now. He wasn't used to doing this type of thing as an NCO, but he had done it as a brother. He was used to being there for his squad. He was always the mediator, the judge, whenever Dale and Remy got into one of their debates. He was the one who heard all sides of the story, the one picked his brothers up whenever Hops couldn't make them laugh off whatever was troubling them. He could do this.

"It's hard to explain, sir," Fitch mumbled.

"Then I'm not a sir for now. I'm just Jud." Jud gestured to the space beside him. After a brief hesitation, Fitch sat down. "We made it through the forest together, just you and I. Talk to me—what's bugging you, kid?" Jud asked.

"Well, it's just…. It's just that…."

Jud laid a hand on Fitch's shoulder, hoping it would reassure Fitch enough to spit out what whatever was tying him in knots. That gesture never failed to calm Dale or Hops after a rough day, but Fitch reacted as though Jud had put a red-hot piece of durasteel on him. He recoiled from Jud and leapt up from his seat. Unbalanced by his sudden change of position, Fitch's helmet landed on the floor with a clatter.

"She's right! I'm just no good, sir!" Fitch's ragged confession tumbled out of him.

She? Jud looked at Fitch, puzzled. When had Ril said— Oh. That blonde piece of—. Jud hastily cut off that train of thought, a not particularly sergeanty thought. Doubt seized him suddenly. Should he be the sergeant or friend? Jud wasn't sure anymore. He needed time, to make sure he was going to say the right thing. Fitch wasn't Dale or Hops, that much was clear. Jud needed time to work out how he could help Fitch.

""So what happened?" he asked quietly.

"I got them all killed. All my squad." A dam seemed to have broken and Fitch was pouring out all his pain. "A grenade landed near them. I should've been paying attention. I should've called out. Should've said something. Should've dived on it. Done something. Anything." Fitch clenched his fists. For a moment, Jud thought he would punch something, but that wasn't Fitch.

"I should've died instead of them," Fitch whispered. "I couldn't save them. I couldn't save that woman. They all died and I didn't raise a hand to stop it."

Jud just sat for a moment, looking at Fitch. He didn't really know what to say. There were half a dozen responses that he recalled hearing in holofilms. There was always a rallying speech, a touching moment between characters after someone had died. Some glib soundbite from the leading man. It wasn't real though. They were actors in a play: civvies. None of them were clones. None of them knew how it felt to lose your brothers; that gut wrenching feeling when you did your best, but found out that it wasn't good enough. Or when you watched helplessly as your brothers died in a fiery larty crash.

The two clones sat there just staring at each other. Jud could feel the tears seeping from his eyes and in a strange flash of self-consciousness; he wondered if Fitch could see them.

Empty words began rolling through his mind. _There was nothing you could've done, it's war, these things happen, it wasn't your fault, they would've wanted you to survive._ Nothing sounded right. In Fitch's place, Jud would've decked anyone who tried to pass off his pain over Hops and Dale with one of those trite phrases. He still would. That wound was too raw.

Not for the first time, Jud appreciated the difference between sympathy, and empathy—knowing the other person has been in your shoes.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Fitch," he murmured the only condolence he could think of that seemed appropriate. "I'm sorry that it happened." Jud whispered as he folded his arms and fought back his own grief as it surged against the barriers he'd put around it.

Fitch looked long and hard at Jud, seeing if he was being honest perhaps, before the rookie let out a growl and kicked at his helmet, sending it skittering away into the darkness. Then just as suddenly as it came, the anger was gone and Fitch sagged to the floor, cradling his head in his arms.

Jud snapped back to the present, realising that Fitch needed him. He took one last look at Fitch before he went and slid down beside him. Fitch didn't move. They just sat there like that: two clones frozen in a moment. Time passed and Jud tuned out everything but the sound of water dripping in the distance.

In the silence, Jud remembered something that Hops taught him ages ago, back when he was struggling with the loss of his first squad, when he was shiny, just like Fitch. " _Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum:_ Hops, Dale, Garac, Jez, Olar, Sev, Tiber, Muzz, Sev," he whispered, heart sinking as he realised for the first time how much longer that particular phrase was going to get. What were names that Hops had said? Leven… that was one… and Mol? Mar? Jud squeezed his eyes shut. So much for being eternal. The memory fades the moment no one can recall the man behind the number.

"Does it help?" Fitch's voice came out of the half-shadows, startling Jud out of his bitter thoughts.

Jud thought about it. "Not really," he admitted. "But Hops used to say it."

"I keep seeing it, sir," Fitch said, his voice far away. "Over and over whenever I stop to think."

Jud tensed. They were treading on dangerous ground—paths he'd been down before. Trooper files weren't open to anyone, only the commander, his second, and the Company's chief medic. Stretch knew, but he was the only one. Jud struggled with himself: his fear of being thought 'defective', and his desire to help Fitch. He looked at Fitch, who was aimlessly plucking at his gauntlet. The latter urge won out.

"Fitch…" Jud's mouth went dry, choking off what he was going to say. He licked his lips and tried again. "Third isn't the first squad I've outlived." The words came slowly and painfully. Jud noticed a faint scrape of plastoid as Fitch straightened from his slouch. Jud chose to ignore it and kept talking, hoping that Fitch wouldn't interrupt him and make him lose his nerve. "The first time it happened, I… uh… didn't cope. I blamed myself and was pretty much determined to get myself iced so I won't let anyone else down." Jud grimaced at how pathetic it sounded now. "Luckily I ran into some brothers who wouldn't give up on me." _Too bad they're gone now._

"How do you do it, sir? How did you cope?" Fitch asked frankly.

Jud just looked at him, a bit perplexed by the innocence of the question. "Honestly?" he asked.

Fitch nodded.

"I don't know." Jud spoke slowly, trying to articulate his thoughts. "I guess I just focus on one thing at a time. Put one foot in front of the other, you know. Solve the problem right in front of me and... I try not to think about it," he confessed. "I box it up until I can work it out."

There was another moment of quiet and then Fitch spoke. "Thank you, sir," he whispered.

"For what?"

"For being honest."

Eventually Fitch stirred and got to his feet, plastoid armour creaking. He reached a hand down to Jud. Jud's eyes just drifted up toward Fitch. Fitch tried for a smile, but it didn't quite work. "Want a hand, sir?"

"At my age, I can't afford to say no," Jud quipped, trying to lighten the atmosphere, but his smile was as forced as Fitch's. He was a bit surprised when Fitch actually chuckled. Jud put his bucket back on and staggered to his feet.

"Sir?"

Jud turned back. "Yes, Fitch?"

"Thank you… Jud." Then so quietly that Jud almost didn't catch it. "It does help."

"Yeah, I guess it does." Jud's mindless words slipped out. "You're welcome… brother."


	13. Crawlers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The soundtrack for this chapter is "Tunnel Chase" from the "I, Robot" OST. I'm fairly sure you can find it on youtube.

It was 0530 on Fitch's chrono when Jud woke him with the order to strike camp.

Fitch rolled over, still bleary. Meer and Digger had relieved him from watch duty three hours earlier. He'd managed at least six hours of sleep: a few hours after the talk with Jud, then another few after his watch was over. Six hours was ample time to recuperate, especially when Fitch remembered that training exercise where his training cadre kept him and the other recruits awake for over sixty hours. _That_ had been a long day, so he was quite happy with six hours of sleep.

All through his watch, Fitch had mulled over what Jud had said to him. That the other man was hurting at all was a revelation. Jud had stepped into the gap that Sergeant Asku had left, as neatly as he'd been doing it all his life and as though he hadn't a care in the world. To learn that he was just as cut up inside, and had in fact broken down previously over a loss like Fitch's, had been startling and oddly vindicating. As though Fitch wasn't just being weak, but it was okay to feel like this—normal even. So with that in mind, he bent with greater attention to his tasks.

* * *

 

Their walk through the caves was more of the same. The cave itself was creepy and surreal, but without the adrenaline of eluding the droid army, Fitch found that walking through the tunnels was pretty dull and miserable. Beside him, at the rear of the column, Meer was trudging along in silence—apparently, he wasn't a morning person. So all Fitch had to keep himself amused were his own thoughts. The chilly air in the tunnels was damp and musty, sapping heat from exposed flesh, and the blankets were probably the only thing keeping the civilians from hypothermia. The monotony of the cave was interrupted by Digger, who was on point.

"I've got a breeze up ahead!" His excitement was infectious.

"The entrance! It can't be too far off!" Pani cried.

Without a word, everyone quickened their pace. Fitch couldn't wait to see sky again. As they moved onwards, the stone surrounding them slowly changed, becoming more porous. Holes riddled the walls around them and footing became treacherous, forcing them to adopt a more deliberate speed.

It was Cera that broke the silence, pointing at something in front of her at head height. "What are these?"

Fitch squinted, but couldn't see anything in the gloom. He slipped his helmet on, flipping over to night vision just in time to see Cera prying a cuboid off the wall. More cuboids covered the ceiling and walls, clumped irregularly together around the dark holes that dotted the rock. Fitch looked at his feet to realise that there were more of them nestled where the walls met the tunnel floor.

In front of him, Cera turned to hand her prize to Wesak. "Here—"

Wesak took one look at what she was holding and lunged, swiping it out of her hands, and accidentally catching her in his haste.

Fitch found his finger on the trigger of his decee without realising it, but Wesak kicked the cube away and turned back to Cera.

"Are you alright?" Wesak asked, and Cera nodded.

Fitch nudged the cube with his boot. "What is it?" he asked.

Wesak was now scrubbing Cera's hands with the ends of the blanket that was draped around her shoulders. He didn't look up as he spoke. "It's a crawler egg. Touch one and the scent sticks to you. That's when you meet Mum and Dad and the rest of the clan. No one in their right mind goes near crawler eggs. What were you thinking?" That last part was clearly directed at Cera.

Fitch stopped toying with the cube. "So if we happened to be surrounded by the things…?"

Wesak swallowed. "That would mean we're in the middle of the nesting site."

Beside him, Fitch heard Meer mutter: "Just great. The only dangerous things on the planet and we go waltzing into their home."

Wesak didn't seem to hear though and was still talking. "We've got to get out of here. If—"

Whatever Wesak was going to say next, Fitch didn't hear it. Movement in one of the holes caught his eye. Cera was standing squarely in front of it. He dove for her, knocking her to the ground, just as something black and big shot past his head. He tried to break her fall, but got tangled up in the blanket and ended up landing on her instead. He rolled off from her just in time to see it coming at him again. He tried to dodge, but his foot was stuck and he wasn't quick enough. It hit him square on, sending him sprawling and knocking his decee out of his grasp. Fitch's HUD flickered from the impact, the world blurring. He tried to roll away, but the crawler was too heavy. He could feel it wrapping around him, pinning him to the rough tunnel floor. Dry snaps came from just in front of his faceplate. He threw up his arms, grappling with the creature as he tried to get it away from him. He felt a sharp pain as the crawler's weight pressed down onto his forearms, the snapping sound getting closer and closer to his unprotected neck.

A streak of blue flashed in front of his face and the weight of the thing lessened enough for him to push it off him. Meer grabbed a hand and yanked him to his feet, the coils of the crawler falling away. Fitch looked down—the crawler was as large as an akk hound.

"Thanks, Meer."

"Any time, _ner_ _vod._ Did it get you?'

"Nothing too serious," Fitch said. "Just a scratch." He could feel hot liquid trickling down his forearm, dampening the fabric.

Everyone was clustering around him, Jud nudging the dead crawler with the muzzle of his decee.

"You should get that looked at," Ril said. "Crawler stings hurt, but get enough of them and your body shuts down."

Her comment had Stretch beside him in an instant. Fitch pulled away from the medic. "I'm fine," he insisted. "I'll worry about it once we're out of here."

"You do need quite a few stings to get to that state," Ril added helpfully. "One sting shouldn't slow you down too much, Fitch."

Stretch didn't look happy. He glanced at Jud who paused, then nodded slowly and said, "Fitch is right. We need to keep moving." The twist of Stretch's lips let Fitch know that the instant there was a lull, the medic would be on him like white on armour.

Wesak came over to him and Fitch tensed, waiting for the testy civilian to have a go at him. Instead, Wesak offered his hand. A hush fell over the group as the two men slowly shook hands.

"You saved her," Wesak said. "Thank you."

"Not a problem," Fitch replied. "It's my job."

Wesak ignored him, not letting go of his hand. "I owe you. If there's anything I can ever do for you, let me know." He released Fitch's hand and returned to Cera's side. Fitch gaped after him and to add to his confusion, Cera flashed him a grateful smile, the first he'd seen from her.

"Ril is right." Jud changed the subject. "We can't stay here, but we can't go back. We've just got to keep going."

"Crawlers are nocturnal," Pani volunteered. "If you turn on your lights, we might have a chance."

"Good idea, ma'am," Jud said.

"I don't suppose you have any local tricks for fighting crawlers?" Digger drawled.

"Stay away, and if all else fails—run." At any other time, Pani's remark would probably have started a ripple of laughter. Not now. Not when her next remark was: "Little ones are about as big as your fist, large ones can be as big as…" She held a hand around chest height.

Fitch swallowed nervously. His arm was starting to throb already and that was from a medium-sized crawler. He didn't want to meet the larger variety. Ril and Cera were rearranging the blankets around themselves, vanishing under swathes of blanket. Digger replaced his helmet. Fitch made sure his decee had a full charge.

"We'll make a run for it then," Jud decided. "Lights on, men."

As the tunnel lit up, Jud's voice echoed off the walls, galvanising Fitch's tired and sore muscles into action. "Move! Move! Move!" Jud hollered, the sudden volume shocking after all the whispering and low voices.

They pelted through the now-bright passage. The walls were coming to life: black shapes spewing out of the holes that riddled them. The clumps of orange cubes grew larger and more haphazard as they ran, encroaching on the floor and narrowing the way so they had to sprint single file, trying not to brush up against the eggs and further enrage the crawlers. Fitch could feel rubbery eggs popping and squashing under his boots. So much for that idea. The rusting of crawlers swelled behind him. He checked the rear view in his HUD and instantly wished he hadn't. A black wave, almost as high as his waist was chasing after them, legs flashing in the dim light.

The tunnel widened enough so that they could run two abreast again. Jud and Stolli were running at the front of the pack, clearing the way with the distinctive blue flashes of their decees. Wrapped in blankets, Fitch couldn't tell the civilians apart from one another, they were an assortment of khaki lumps. Suddenly, the pace slackened.

"What's the frakking hold up?" Meer hollered beside Fitch.

"Can't tell where the breeze is coming from!" Jud yelled back.

Ahead of them, the tunnel had split into three forks which all looked equally forbidding in the harsh light of their headlamps.

"Well pick one then hurry the frack up!" Meer yelled back frustrated.

Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention just in time. Fitch dodged, as a crawler came at him from a side tunnel. He fired at the black thing, unthinking and calm. Blue plasma tore into it as it screeched. Then it was still. More movement. Fitch fired again, vaguely away that Meer was at his back, firing at another hole full of the things. The smell of burnt flesh and singed hair wormed its way through his helmet filters, but there was no more movement. Fitch checked his decee's charge: still good.

"Stuff it! This way!" Ahead of them, Jud had obviously made up his mind.

Amazingly, the firefight with the crawlers seemed to have taken no time. The others were only twenty metres ahead of him and Meer. The rustling and clicking behind them now sounded like a forest in the middle of a gale. The noise added wings to Fitch's feet as he fled down the ever-widening tunnel.

"I can see the exit!" Stolli called from the front of the pack.

In the gloom ahead, Fitch could see a circle of light streaming through a hole in the ceiling. The tunnel had opened out into a small cavern. Unlike the passage they'd just fled down, there were no holes riddling the walls, ready to spew out more crawlers. Roots twined through the ceiling above them, making the roof look like it was wearing a fur coat.

Stolli skidded to a halt in the shaft of light, the civvies almost careening into him in their haste. As smoothly as though they had rehearsed it, Jud gave Stolli a boost, the second clone vanishing into the dirt overhead.

Stolli reappeared a second later. "We're clear!" he yelled, before reaching down to haul up first Cera, then Ril.

Fitch could see that Jud was boosting civilians up as fast as possible, forming a human ladder, but the sounds of the crawlers was now deafening. They needed more time! Fitch ran back down the passageway, with Meer close behind, just as the wave of crawlers spilled around the bend.

Fitch noted grimly that there was no cover, and only fifty meters between him and those… _things_. He opened fire, trying to pick off the biggest ones that he could see. The rest of the crawlers surged over and around the corpses chattering angrily. The eerie sound sent shivers up his spine. They didn't even slow down—it was like throwing pebbles at the incoming tide. Menace seethed from their foe. He took a step back, then another, feeling his breath catch in his throat.

"Fitch! Meer! Time to go!" Jud's order rang harshly over the comm system.

Together they turned and sprinted towards Jud. Fitch shunted Jud out of the way as he laced his fingers together and gestured down at his waiting hands. "You first, sir!" Fitch indicated as he heaved his sergeant up to safety whilst Meer fired another volley at the horde bearing down on them.

There was only him and Meer left in the cavern now. _Past time to go_! A fresh surge of adrenaline pounded through his veins as Fitch realised there was only twenty metres between them and the crawlers.

Fitch screamed at him. "Meer! Let's go!"

Meer slung his decee over his back and ran at Fitch, vaulting off Fitch's interlaced fingers. He almost smacked Stolli in the helmet with the violence of his leap. Behind Fitch, the dry snapping and chittering noises continued to crescendo as Stolli hauled Meer to safety.

"C'mon, rookie! Grab my hand!" Stolli was dangling from the hole, his shoulders halfway through the opening, hand outstretched.

Fitch gathered himself and jumped. He felt Stolli grab his forearm, then his grip slipped, Stolli's hand skidding over blood-slicked armour. Fitch hung there for an instant while they both tried to get a better grip.

But Fitch slipped out of the other clone's hold and fell—back into the roiling darkness.


	14. Breathing in the Meadow

Stolli swore. From ten metres away, Jud heard the dull thump.

"Rookie! Talk to me!" Stolli had shoved as much of himself as he could into the innocuous grassy opening.

A cry of pain burst from the hole, but Jud realised to his horror, that it wasn't Stolli's voice. _Fitch!_

"I don't see him!" Stolli yelled.

All Jud could think was that Fitch was alive, but in pain, and in the dark with an army of monsters. In the dark... Light! He dug around in his belt frantically, but couldn't find what he was looking for. "Stretch!" he roared. "Give Stolli your flare!"

Time crawled as Stretch fumbled with his belt, then tossed the stick to Stolli. Stolli caught it one handed and popped it, waiting only long enough for it to light, before following it into the pit. Digger tumbled in after him. Jud forced himself to watch their surroundings. All he wanted to do was follow them in and haul Fitch out of there, but someone had to stay calm and focus on the mission.

Through the blood throbbing in his ears, he could hear Stolli yelling for Fitch, and the sounds of blaster fire. He couldn't hear Fitch. The rookie was silent, his icon in Jud's HUD was dark. Jud refused to believe what his HUD told him. Fitch wasn't dead, not yet. He couldn't be.

He crouched down by the hole. "Hurry it up!" he ordered. "That flare won't last forever!"

A small part of him wondered at how normal he sounded even as everything was going wrong. It was Hops all over again. Once again, one of his brothers was hurt and he was helpless to do anything. He scanned the horizon, praying that they were alone. Luck was on their side it seemed.

They'd surfaced in the middle of a grassy hollow that was littered with rocks and stunted thorn bushes. Spindly trees edged the meadow on one side. The other civilians milling around were clearly outlined against the green of the grass. Stretch and Meer's armour stuck out like a sore thumb. The tall grass might hide them from a patrol if they flattened themselves against the ground, but it offered scant protection against aerial surveillance or droids mounted on STAPs. He had to get everyone out of here.

"Meer, I want the civilians all under cover," Jud yelled. "Shift 'em to the treeline and make sure they stay there!"

Ril protested. "We can't just leave him there!"

Jud shut her voice out; he needed to focus. His brothers closed ranks. Stretch stepped between them, keeping Ril back. Meer gently, but firmly herded her out of the meadow. The other civilians followed like a gaggle of nuna.

In the hole below, the flare was starting to dim. Jud's anxiety levels rose. There was no word from the others and the sound of decees had stopped. What was going on down there? He was about to call Digger when—

"Got him!" Digger hollered triumphantly.

Fitch's form was unceremoniously manhandled through the hole, followed closely by his rescuers. Stretch materialised beside Fitch, dragging him clear, and starting to check his vitals. Digger started stripping off Fitch's armour plates so that Stretch could get a line in. Stolli moved to help, but Jud stopped him.

"I need you both to go help Meer secure the area," Jud told him. He caught and held Digger's gaze. "We've got to keep those civvies safe."

Stolli—ever the pragmatist—stood up and dashed for the trees, but Digger hesitated.

"That's an order!" Jud barked.

Digger obviously heard the steel in his tone and headed for the trees at a run. Relieved of his leadership obligation (if only for a moment) Jud sank down beside Stretch. The medic eased Fitch's helmet off. That was good. Jud knew Stretch wouldn't risk removing Fitch's helmet unless he was sure there were no spinal injuries.

Fitch's eyelids fluttered and he slowly opened his eyes. "Owwwww!" he moaned.

Jud blew out a sigh of relief. "Talk to me, Stretch."

Stretch's hands were busy fixing bandage patches over Fitch's injuries while he talked. "Multiple shallow stab wounds. All located in the gaps between plates—looks like the armour was too tough for the critters. I don't see anything else wrong, but I don't have my scanner so I can't be certain." He pulled a sharp out of his belt and jammed it unceremoniously into Fitch's neck, making the younger clone wince, before Stretch went back to slapping bandages over another of the many wounds that were oozing blood.

Fitch coughed, his voice raspy. "Sorry, sir. I lost my decee when they rushed me."

"Worry about that later, kid. Right now we've got to get under cover." Relief was making Jud's voice unusually gruff.

"Yes, sir. I think I can walk."

Jud glanced at Stretch, who nodded his consent. "Come on then, rookie," Jud said. "Enough of the lazing around."

He propped Fitch up on one side and Stretch took the other. They'd made it most of the way to the treeline when Fitch suddenly sagged between them.

"Help me get him down."

Stretch's taut voice was not good. Neither was the wheezing noise Fitch was making. The medic rolled Fitch on his side. Jud was familiar with this part and started stripping off the cuisse that covered Fitch's thigh. Stretch stabbed two sharps deep into Fitch's thigh muscle before he updated Jud.

"His system's going into anaphylactic shock. Blood pressure's dropping. This must be what Ril mentioned earlier, about the crawler venom."

"Stretch, we can't stay here," Jud said urgently. "It's too exposed and those things could come out of that hole at any moment. We need to move him."

"Give me a moment."

Both of them paused, listening to Fitch struggle for breath. Stretch reached out to take Fitch's pulse, tension in every line of his body. After a long moment, the ragged edge to Fitch's wheezing eased and Jud let out a breath that he hadn't known he was holding.

"He's stable for now," Stretch said. "But I've no idea what kind of toxin I'm dealing with."

The rookie's stillness unnerved Jud. The wounds didn't look too bad and clones weren't supposed to be allergic to anything. Fitch was a tough kid, he would've brushed off a fall and kept going. Heck, he'd probably even ask permission before passing out from blood loss, sir-ing Jud left, right, and centre the whole time. What was in those crawler stings that could take him down like that?

"I'll take it we can move him?" Jud asked.

The medic nodded in confirmation.

"Good. C'mon Stretch, let's get him to the trees."

Propping Fitch between them, they headed for the raggedy trees.

* * *

Fitch just lay there on the ground, unmoving and unconscious.

Were it not for the slight movement of his chest, Ril would've thought he was dead. The medic was hovering over him, refusing to leave his side. Whatever medicine he'd used, he didn't seem very happy about its effect: he kept checking Fitch every couple of minutes, muttering to himself as he did so.

The mood in the clearing was not a good one—no one spoke or smiled. Cera was holding Fitch's free hand, her face drawn. Wesak also looked grim, leaning against a nearby tree and watching the tableau. They both seemed genuinely upset that Fitch was hurt, a complete change from their earlier attitude. The clones were silent, but no less attentive. Jud stood apart, as silent and far away as the moons.

Ril still couldn't quite believe that Fitch was hurt. It felt like just a moment ago, back in that horror of a tunnel, that he'd been alive and talking. She'd blinked and now he was lying there like a dead thing. Blink. Fitch was alive. Blink. He was down. Blink, blink, blink.

When Jud and Stretch had staggered into the small clearing, his limp form slung between them, Ril had thought that Fitch was dead. She'd tried to go to him, but Meer's iron grip on her arm had held her in place, ignoring her feeble attempts to free herself and her tears.

"You can't help him," Meer had hissed at her. "Stay back and let Stretch do his job."

Now Stretch had done his job, but nothing had changed. Fitch hadn't sat up or started talking. His armour plates were stacked beside him in a blood-stained pile. One of the clones—she thought it was Digger—was scrubbing at the stains with a blanket corner, his face white as he worked.

Fitch's breathing hitched and everyone froze. It was only a few seconds, but then he resumed breathing as normal. There was a collective sigh as they all relaxed again. Jud removed his helmet, and the other clones followed suit. For a split second, Ril was reminded of the 'follow the leader' games that she used to play as a child. All looking and acting the same, just like the clones. Then she looked, really looked, at the faces that had emerged from under the blank faceplates. All of the men looked like they'd aged years in the last hour. There was a different expression on each face, like different expressions of the same man: anger, despair, calm, blankness, determination. Not the same then.

Digger stopped scrubbing, his eyes sad as he looked up at Jud. "We're not going to make it. Are we, sir?" he asked.

A lump grew in Ril's throat. The clones weren't supposed to doubt: they were soldiers. Or maybe the situation really was that bad.

There was a loud _thud_. Ril spun round to see that Meer had punched a nearby tree. She caught a glimpse of red on his knuckles as he pulled away.

"Figures!" Meer said bitterly. "We're just clones after all. They're not coming back for us."

Before Ril could despair, Jud shot to his feet, his voice sharp. "None of that! We've got the civilians. They'll come back for them."

"They're not exactly Republic civilians. The fleet won't give two hoots and a holler about them," Meer retorted.

Stolli and Digger were silent. None of the clones contradicted him. No one spoke up. Something sparked to life in Ril. Hot rage. How _dare_ they put her through all of this, drag her all around the place, promise safety after everything else had disappeared, only to crumble and turn tail.

"What did they even bother sending you here for then?" she exploded. "What kind of Republic sends you in here, then hangs you out to dry? Why? What's the point? To annoy those droids? What's here that they want? We've got nothing! We're nobody!"

She ran out of air and had to stop mid-harangue. Everyone was staring at her. Somehow she felt even more angry at their passive faces, their silence. Wasn't anyone going to say anything? Deny her accusations? She was about to lay into them again, when she felt a cool hand on her arm.

"No one's saying it was all for nothing," Pani was calm, her eyes steady. "But we can't fall apart now. We need to stick together. The soldiers have got us this far—have faith."

Ril tried to hold onto her anger, but she couldn't bring herself to snap at Pani. She let herself be seated once more and took the water bottle that Pani pushed on her, letting the cool water ease her raw throat.

Her outburst seemed to have loosened tongues. Wesak broke the silence. "So now what?"

"Now?" Jud repeated as he got to his feet. "Now nothing. We do nothing."

 _Nothing!_ Ril choked, coughing as the water went down the wrong way. Her outrage was reflected in the other faces around the clearing.

"What? You can't be serious!" Wesak said.

Jud had his distant face on again. The one that he had worn ever since they'd met up with the others. Ril didn't like it. It was no more his real face than the helmet he wore.

Jud folded his arms over his chest. "I am. We've got no way of getting Fitch medical treatment. I'm not risking anyone else and that's final."

Ril had finally cleared her lungs of water. She opened her mouth, only to close it with a yelp as she felt a sharp pain in her arm. She looked down to see a patch of reddening skin; Pani had pinched her. Ril glared, but Pani ignored it, her hand hovering close in a silent warning.

Cera looked up from where she was sitting, still holding Fitch's hand. "No, it's not." Her voice was soft. "He saved me. I owe him." She gestured at Wesak, who was nodding. " _We_ owe him. There has to be something we can do to help."

Jud seemed taken aback by Cera's remark, even as Ril was silently cheering Cera on. "Look, my orders are to keep you all safe," he said bluntly. "Right now that means sitting tight and waiting for back up."

"What if that doesn't happen?" Wesak challenged. "What then?"

Jud didn't reply and the silence stretched. Ril felt her heart sink. Was everyone going to give up that easily?

Pani spoke up. "Well if the Republic isn't going to come to us, why don't we see if we can't go to them?"

Meer snapped at her, getting in the other woman's face. "Right. Like that's going to happen. The Seps are the only ones with ships and I can't see them lending us one!"

Jud stepped between them. "Stand down, trooper!" He glared at Meer. "Meer! Walk it off!"

Meer looked away first. He stamped over to Fitch and he dumped himself down beside the unconscious man, ignoring Stretch's grumbling about too many people.

"Actually, that's not a bad idea." Stolli's wry observation defused the situation.

Ril was confused. What wasn't a bad idea? Everyone else seemed just as baffled by Stolli's cryptic remark.

"What do you mean?" Jud demanded.

"Well, we need comms and a shuttle. Which, coincidentally, is exactly what the tinnies have in abundance right now." Stolli grinned, his determined look becoming one of mischief.

"What are you—crazy?" Digger objected. "There's how many of them and how many of us? Anyway, we don't even know where their base is."

Wesak spoke up. "Well, actually…."

Everyone turned around to stare at him. Ril felt a glimmer of hope and she wasn't the only one. The despair in the clearing melted away.

"You know where the Separatist base is?" Jud asked.

"A friend mentioned he'd seen smoke in the distance when he was on a hunting trip. He thought it was strange because no one lives out that way. It was a few days ago... about an hour that way." Wesak waved vaguely to the east.

Jud said weakly, "it's risky, we can't keep you safe…." He sounded like he was arguing against himself. As though deep down, he too wanted to believe there was a way out of this nightmare.

Ril clenched her fists. "Nowhere is safe now! We should at least try!"

Jud looked around. "What about the rest of you?"

He stared long and hard at each of them. Ril stared back, willing him to see her determination. Heads nodded. Even Cera had picked up a certain steel to her gaze. The other clones were silent, but their body language was clear. They were also tired of running.

"It might not be feasible," Jud said. He still sounded hesitant. "Don't get your hopes up; there might be too many droids around."

Right then, Ril didn't care about droids. Neither did the others, it seemed. Everyone looked rebellious, even the clones.

Jud sighed and continued. "But I'm willing to send a patrol out to do some recon."

Ril couldn't help it; she felt a grin spreading across her face as the soldiers started to gather up their things.

"Okay, Wesak," Jud said. "I'll need you to show the patrol where your buddy saw smoke."


	15. The Plan

The patrol reached the enemy base without any complications. Wesak's intel had been good and he'd led Stolli—who Jud had put in charge, ignoring the other man's protests—and Digger unerringly towards their target.

The Separatist base was a small one. It squatted on flat grassland several hundred meters away from the nearest cover. The patrol was high in the nearby canopy which, like the hut that Ril had showed Jud that first night, was at least thirty meters off the ground.

Back at the campsite, Jud and Meer were avidly following Stolli's camera view in their HUD displays. Stretch and the women were keeping Fitch company. Stolli had zoomed in as much as he was able and what they had seen so far wasn't encouraging.

" _Stang._ There's tinnies everywhere, _"_ Stolli mumbled as he stared aghast at the Separatist base on the plain below him.

Through Stolli's helmet feed, Jud heard Wesak ask, "well, what do you want to do about it?"

"Damned if I know," Stolli whispered, still riveted by the sheer tally of droids he'd managed to count inside the base.

"Some help you are," Wesak huffed.

"Look there is no way we're going to make it. We've got a snowball's chance in Mustafar of getting in there without being spotted."

Jud had to admit Stolli had a point. Searchlight towers ringed the enclosure and as Stolli increased his HUD's magnification, he could see droid patrols moving at the top and the base of the towering walls.

"Do you want a silver lining to go with that cloud?" Meer joked.

"Up yours, Meer!" Stolli fired back angrily.

Stolli was normally the epitome of calm, grumpy and pessimistic to be sure, but still calm. It took a lot for him to rise to Meer's baiting. Jud jumped on the channel before things deteriorated further. "Now, boys, play nicely. Don't make me come over there and thump you!" Then something caught his eye. "Kriff, I see another sentry post—two o'clock on your HUD, Stolli. That makes six posts."

"Why in the blue blazes are they even bothering with sentries anyway? For all they know, we're all supposed to be dead. They shouldn't need to guard anything," Digger said.

"What do you expect from a bunch of glorified toasters?" Meer quipped.

"What I wouldn't give for a pair of binos and a sniper about now," Stolli groused.

"You can add that to my wish list for larties, air support, and the rest of the 35th at our backs," Jud remarked, a lot more calmly than he felt. "In the meantime, Stolli, we're back to using the Mark I Eyeball."

Meer turned to Jud. "Seriously though, this is ARC trooper stuff that we're doing. We're not trained for this kind of stunt."

"Well technically... " Digger began.

"Oh shut it!" Meer cut Digger off. " _Technically_ we _were_ trained, but half the stuff we were taught on Kamino ain't particularly relevant right now. Knowing the three kill spots on a Geonosian isn't going to get us in there, neither will knowing the chief exports of Alderaan."

"Nothing like learning on the job," Digger replied good-naturedly.

"If you don't stop being so chirpy, so help me, when you get back here, I will smack you into next week!" Meer snarled.

"Dreams are free, mate," Digger retorted.

Jud held up a warning hand and Meer subsided.

That was when Stolli came back on over the radio. "Stow it you lot, I'm trying to think. Act professional would you? Or at least stop acting like a bunch of slap-happy cadets. We've got to find a way of getting off this _kriffing_ rock; be that a call for help or… hello, hello, what have we here?"

Meet took the bait. "What?"

"Ten o'clock, lumpy shape to the left of that shed. Do you see what I see?"

"That's a _Sheathipede_ -class shuttle! _Ner vod,_ I could almost kiss you!" Meer was ecstatic.

"Um, please don't," Stolli said gravely.

"Suit yourself," Meer retorted.

Jud couldn't help but grin at their antics. "Can anyone remember if those things have hyperdrive?" he asked.

"It must do. How else did the Seps get out here?" Stolli replied. "Only... _Endeavour_ didn't say anything about support ships in orbit."

"Stolli, I'll never say that you're an infuriating, gloomy old fart-eater again," Meer said solemnly. It was a touching moment.

"We're still going to need a way to sneak in there and get to the shuttle without raising the alarm," Jud remarked, smothering the leap of hope he felt looking at the ponderous ship.

"Way to ruin the moment, sarge," Digger said.

"C'mon—it's a fair point. We've got no grenades, no extra men, no Jedi to pull some fantastic victory out their arse…and a bunch of civvies to shepherd around. We are well and truly stuffed." Meer had switched from gleeful to gloomy again.

"What is with you two today? Someone spit in your caf?" asked Digger.

"Caf? What's that? I haven't seen anything remotely resembling caf in four karking days!" Meer retorted.

"Yeah—it shows."

Stolli crackled back over the comms. "Sir, there's something else you should know—I've got a hit on the weapons database: the Seps have got a defoliator tank tucked away in there."

Jud enlarged Stolli's POV icon so it took up the whole of his HUD. Sure enough, a defoliator tank was outlined in red on the screen. As he watched, a rotund Nemoidian wandered past the open gate of the base. Stolli's HUD immediately raised a red flag.

Digger saw it too. " _Frak_! That's Lok Durd, one of the Seppie's top boom brains!"

"Boom brains? Really? That's the best you can do?" Meer didn't sound impressed at Digger's creativity.

Jud was temporarily stunned. This certainly went a long way towards explaining Pani's odd account of droids emerging unscathed from the conflagration of her town.

"Well, that actually explains the Sep presence out here," Stolli muttered thoughtfully. "It's quiet, out of the way. No Republic ships to show up when you start experimenting with new weapons on the indigenous population."

He'd forgotten who was beside him. "You mean our people died for some… _experiment!"_ Wesak thundered. "That's monstrous, that's just… just wrong!"

"Actually… if we can get our mitts on him, Durd might be our ticket out of here," Jud mused aloud, paying no mind to Wesak's rant. "The droids can't use one of their fancy rounds, and they can't risk firing on the shuttle."

"Didn't Kenobi pull something like this off on Christophsis, sir?" Digger asked.

"I wouldn't know. I think I was being med-evac'd around then," Jud replied. "Stolli, do you see any other organics?"

"Negative, sir. Just the one scuzbag," Stolli replied.

"He's organic right? Just like us, so he's got to have a place to eat and sleep. He's probably not going to want a bunch of droids looking on when he's stuffing his face or snoring away. We could grab him then," Digger suggested.

Although it was reassuring to see everyone energised by the prospect of getting off planet, a decision had to be made. Jud held up his hands. "Right you lot. I now declare this session of Weequay Parliament officially over. Wesak, Stolli, Digger get back here. Get something to eat and some sleep. We'll go over the mission briefing once you've rested up."

There was a click as Stolli closed the channel. Jud removed his helmet to find Ril, who had obviously been hanging around at the fringes of the conversation, waiting to talk to him.

"Yes?" he asked.

She twisted a strand of hair behind an ear, scuffing the grass with her boot. "I just wanted to ask… well, with everything that is going on, I was wondering if I could do anything to help?"

Jud started to shake his head, then paused. "Actually, Ril, if you and the other civilians could watch Fitch and get him to the shuttle when we signal you, that would be a great help. We'll need Stretch with us."

She smiled. "Consider it done, sergeant, sir." She flipped him a mock salute and went to re-join the others.

Stretch had heard. "May I have a word, sergeant?"

Jud nodded and they walked a few metres away from the impromptu campsite.

"Sir," Stretch began. "I don't feel comfortable leaving Fitch alone. Those crawlers really did a number on him. I don't like the look of him at all. Request permission to stay behind."

Jud could definitely empathise with that sentiment. He gripped Stretch's shoulder firmly. "I know how you feel, Stretch, really I do, but the fact is we need every man. There's only five of us and a kriff-load of droids out there."

The medic just shook him off. "Fitch isn't stable enough for me to just leave him with her. I'll bet she doesn't know the first thing about first aid!"

"You'll just have to teach her," Jud said. "We need you on that wall with us. Not on the ground."

Stretch sagged. "Yes, sir. I understand."

"Good man."


	16. Mission Impossible

The dusk came, bringing with it a welcome layer of mist. Everyone was in position. Ril and the other civilians were crouched on the outskirts waiting for their cue, Fitch beside them on an improvised stretcher. Jud and the remainder of his brothers were spread out in the scrub, waiting for their chance.

In front of them, the huge curved walls of the Sep base towered overhead, rearing out of the ground. Searchlights scanned the barren ground around the perimeter, the fog softening the probing lights. Erratic droid patrols roamed around the base's exterior. It was going to be a tough nut to crack.

Jud gripped his decee tighter, feeling the familiar heady buzz of adrenaline surging through his veins and making his stomach churn. His com-link was open; he could hear the little clicks of jaws tightening, and gentle breathing of the men beside him. They were all waiting for him, waiting for his signal. For a moment, he felt paralysed, crushed by the sense of responsibility. What if he made the wrong call and got them all men killed? He forced himself to relax. Make a decision then make it the right one. Just like the Captain said.

After the last few days, Jud thought he finally understood what Captain Bede had meant. He was the only one who could make the call. He had to make the best decision he could, based on the intel he had, and then do his utmost to make sure that everything worked out. Second-guessing yourself never worked. Neither did standing around—in fact, it was the surest way he knew of to get your rear shot off. No, all he had to do was make a decision and go from there.

He watched the spotlights circle each other, the steady march of the droids providing a counterpoint to their dance. Then he saw it: they'd fallen into a rhythm. Circle this way, then the other spotlight swung that way, and every five minutes, the guards moved. He held his hand up in the 'ready' signal and spoke into his mic: "Standby." He heard the swallows as the others tensed.

There! The movement of the searchlights created a gap of shadow. Jud sprinted for it, hearing the exertion in of the others' breathing in his ears as they kept pace. The spotlights shifted, starting to overlap with each other, Jud sidestepped and dodged around them, not slackening his pace for an instant. His headlong flight came to an abrupt halt at the base of the walls. He looked around—the tinnies were still at the far end of their circuit.

Digger and the rest were only a beat behind, obediently stacking up beside him. Meer kept an eye on their left flank. Stolli and Stretch were lining up the droid patrol on their right in their sights–hopefully as a precaution. Digger readied Fitch's ascension cable. A quiet _chonck_ signalled that the cable was properly secured. Digger slung his decee and started climbing up the cable, bracing himself against the wall with his legs.

Jud checked his chrono. They had less than a minute before the droids started walking back their way. The searchlights were still futilely searching the area in front of the base, little knowing that their enemy had already slipped past. Jud signalled the others on the ground then started scrambling up the cable after Digger, decee at the ready in case some tinny suddenly got the bright idea of looking over the wall.

The cable shook as one by one, Stretch, then Meer, and lastly Stolli followed him up the wall. Stolli was gathering the cable as he went so they wouldn't leave a tell-tale rope dangling. Jud was ten meters up the wall when Stolli hissed over the com-link, "hold up! Tinnies!".

Jud froze, resisting the urge to edge his fingers closer to his trigger. He scolded himself; Stolli and Stretch would have the droid patrol covered. Hopefully, the combination of the mist and the muck covering their armour would hide them from the photoreceptors of the droids.

He hung motionless, suspended halfway up the wall as the seconds crawled by. Any moment now, Jud was sure he'd hear a cry of discovery, feel droid blaster fire ripping into him. But nothing happened. At last, Stolli whispered "Good to go!" and they resumed their stealthy climb.

* * *

The tension was killing her. Ril waited impatiently in the bushes. The droids' fortress seemed impenetrable: searchlights and battle droids everywhere. Terror lurked at the back of her mind; her brain seemed determined to keep bringing up the worst-case scenarios. Any second she expected to hear shouting and blaster fire. She didn't know how Jud and the other clones coped with this kind of pressure, and on a regular basis too. It was a sobering and terrifying glimpse into their lives and she quickly decided it wasn't for her.

"How's he doing?" Pani whispered from the darkness.

Ril checked Fitch's limp form in the stretcher beside her. His colour wasn't great, two fever patches starting to show on his pale cheeks, but his breathing was steady.

"He's still with us," she breathed, gingerly fingering the sharps in her pocket.

Before they'd set out, Stretch had spent half an hour finding out what she knew about first aid—nothing—and giving her a crash course in being a military paramedic. He'd been brusque but patient. Jud had apparently told Stretch about her soft spot for plants. Ril had needed to gently break it to both men that she was an amateur botanist. She collected plants so she could describe them and categorise them, perhaps for a scientific institute one day, but she didn't go into more detail than what they looked like and where they grew. Medicinal uses were far beyond her.

Despite all that, here she was, Fitch's temporary medic. As the two strongest, Pani and Wesak were acting as stretcher bearers. Ril had headed off Cera's timid offer of help. There was no way that she was going to let Cera near Fitch, let alone play at medic, regardless of the other woman's apparent change of heart. All she had to do was keep Fitch breathing and his heart beating until they were on the shuttle and Stretch could take over again. Ril hoped there was a shuttle with a med droid in it somewhere in that walled compound. Fitch had been so nice to her during their trek to the rendezvous. It seemed inconceivable that he wouldn't make it, not after they'd gotten this far.

In the murky gloom, she could just make out movement on the wall. Jud and the others had made it past the searchlights. She had thought that she might feel relief at this point in the plan, but if anything she felt _more_ tense.

* * *

Digger whispered: "One meter to breach. Standby."

Jud's stomach flip-flopped again. Digger was almost at the top. Jud grinned as he thought of Meer's earlier objections when they'd been going over the plan: _"We're troopers, not kriffing commandos, we don't_ do _sneaky!"_. Apparently, Digger was determined to prove him wrong.

Jud edged up the cable a bit more, so he was right under Digger, ready to pile over the top on the other man's signal. They'd have to time this right or they'd all end up slaughtered. Before he could start worrying, he heard: "Standby, standby. Go, go go!"

His body responded to the familiar command without conscious thought. He found himself crouching on the walkway, covering the right flank whilst the rest of the team clambered over the wall.

The courtyard below them was mostly empty space, a stark contrast to the GAR bases he'd been on. A raised communications station stood on the other side of the yard from them, two droid troop ships were squatted at the far end of the compound, below them were the distinctive rectangles of prefab huts. Battle droid barracks? Jud wondered. Can't be, droids don't need to snuggle away from the rain. They must be Durd's quarters. In an amazing stroke of luck, they'd managed to scale the part of the wall closest to their target.

Stolli quickly but efficiently anchored the ascension cable to the walkway and then fast-roped down into the base. Digger and Stretch followed suit, fanning out onto the durasteel floor of the base in a mess of muddy plastoid and ruthless determination. He was next.

Jud felt like he barely touched the cable as he flew down it. He sprinted over to a stack of crates. The mechanical efficiency of the droids apparently didn't extend to their cargo stacking arrangements and small haphazard piles littered the space. Perfect cover for a group of clone infiltrators.

Digger was the last one down. A patrol of droids came round the corner just as Digger took cover. Jud felt a shiver crawl up his spine. That was close! He didn't know how much longer they could push their luck. This place was crawling with clankers.

In fits and spurts, they edged their way closer to the prefab huts. Three huts was completely dark. The other had a faint light coming from the windows, as though a light was on in a different room. Jud would've bet even money was on the slimy Nemoidian being holed up inside there. There was a problem though. Two B1 droids were standing guard near what looked like the only door.

Remembering the axiom, if you assume, you make an ass of u and me, Jud figured it would pay to double check. "Meer! Stretch! Circle around the building." he whispered harshly. He wasn't quite sure why he was bothering to whisper, given that his bucket was soundproof. Then again, yelling when you're deep in the gundark's nest went against every human instinct.

His scouts were back in record time. "Two windows at the rear of the building and one on the left wall. None of them are big enough to fit through. No other guards," Stretch reported in a hushed tone. It seemed that Jud wasn't the only one that felt the need to whisper.

"Copy that," Jud said. "Just these two clankers to take care of then."

He gestured to Stolli as he began sneaking up on the guard closest to him. Stolli caught on and began stalking towards the other droid. With a satisfying _kachonk,_ Jud wrenched the droid's head around, snapping the power couplings. Meer lunged and caught the droid's body before it could clatter against the floor. Hushed metallic noises to his left signalled the demise of the other guard.

Jud carefully put the droid's head down, trying not to make a noise. He turned to the others. "Right. Stolli, watch our backs. Rest of you, with me. Remember: as quietly as possible."

The others chorused a hushed, "sir, yes sir!"

Decee at the ready, Jud gently pushed against the door, it swung open easily at his touch. He stalked along the hallway, alert for any signs of movement or alarms. It looked like he'd entered the kitchen: the smell was unpleasant to say the least. _It seems it's true what they say about Nemoidian cuisine_. Ahead of him he could see that the kitchen opened out into a living area. A light flicked in a corner and he heard the distinct _tap-tap_ sound of someone working on a datapad. _Bingo!_

"Possible target just around the bend," Jud said. He heard Digger swallow nervously. "Steady boys," Jud said. "Nothing we haven't done before. In three, two, one—go! go! go!"

He burst around the corner, quickly scanning for any droids. The others were hot on his heels. The Nemoidian looked stunned to have a bunch of clones bursting into his home. He just sat there. That was fine by Jud, who kept his weapon trained on their hostage as Stretch and Stolli rushed past him to clear the other two rooms.

Two shouts of "Clear!" came across the comm and Jud allowed himself to relax a fraction. It looked like they were alone with their guest, who had recovered enough to stammer, "Who are…What do you want, clone?"

Jud turned on his external speakers with a swift eye movement. "Not the point. I want you to power down all your nasty tin friends and open the front door."

The Nemoidian blustered. "You can't be serious!"

Jud flicked to the lethal setting on his decee with an audible click. "You'd better believe it, otherwise there isn't much point in us keeping you alive."

"You wouldn't."

Jud had to make his point and quick, to show Durd who was in charge here. He tightened his grip on the trigger slowly, bringing the muzzle of the rifle closer so that it was squarely between the Nemoidian's liquid red eyes.

Durd paled. "Very well." He cringed away from decee's muzzle. It looked like Jud's point had been made.

"How good of you to play along. Now, give the word."

* * *

The durasteel doors groaned as they slowly slid open. For a moment Ril, just stared at them. _They did it!_ Against all odds, it seemed that Jud and the others had managed to grab the Separatist VIP and bluff him into opening the doors. A muddy armoured figure appeared in the opening and waved in their direction.

"Come on!" he called.

Who 'he' was, Ril couldn't tell, but he was wearing armour and that was good enough for her.

Cera whimpered. "What if it's a trap?"

"It doesn't matter," Pani said matter of factly. "We're past the point of do or die."

Pani took hold of her end of Fitch's stretcher. Together she and Wesak lifted the wounded clone up and started hurrying towards the door of the massive structure. Ril grabbed Cera's hand and dragged the other woman after them.

Ril's skin crawled as they walked cautiously through the droid patrol towards the gate. The droids just stood there, heads turning as they watched the civilians pass. The blank faceplates made her skin crawl. Nothing happened as they got closer and closer to the droids. Any moment she expected to feel the searing heat of blaster fire. But before she knew it, they were across the threshold and inside the base.

* * *

Meer called in over the comm. "Pre-flight checks are complete, sir. We are good to go. It looks like this baby has hyperspace; even if she has all the grace of a a drunken Weequay. Might be a tight squeeze inside the cabin though."

Jud could hear Meer was fiddling with shuttle controls in the background. So far nothing had gone wrong, but try telling that to his gut—the damn thing felt like it was trying to claw its way out his stomach and out his throat. "Copy that, Meer. Stolli – where are we on comms?"

"Almost done here, sir. Republic locator signal should be going live any minute."

"I want that signal _now,_ Stolli."

"On it, sir."

Now they just had to pray that there were friendly forces within earshot.

Ril and the others seemed like they were taking forever and a day to get inside the base. Jud could see Digger standing in the entrance to the Sep base, waving at them to hurry up.

The droids still seemed confused by the sudden appearance of Republic troops in their base. For half an instance, Jud had feared that droids would open fire when he'd first stepped into the light. Lucky for Jud, holding the muzzle of his decee against their boss's head had made the droids pause long enough for Durd to start yelling. After a moment of confusion, the droids had done as Durd ordered, relinquishing their weapons and standing down. Stretch had herded them together and was keeping an eye on them. The confiscated rifles had been added to the pyrotechnic display that Stolli was preparing at the comm centre.

In front of him, the Nemoidian grumbled. "What do you hope to achieve with this, clone? You are doomed, just like your corrupt Republic." Durd took on an oily, condescending tone that Jud didn't much care for. "Surrender and I'll make sure your end is swift."

He was picking up steam. Jud nudged him with his decee pointedly and the cowardly creature fell quiet.

A cluster of people appeared in the round portal. Ril had made it. The group snaked their way across the courtyard to where Jud was standing with his 'guest'.

"Done!" Stolli had finally got a signal through, calling to any Republic ships in the area for immediate assistance and warning them about the Separatist presence here.

"Good job. Pull back to the shuttle, we'll detonate once we're in the air," Jud said.

"Your actions are futile, clone." The Nemoidian snarled as Digger and the civilians approached. "You'll never make it back to Republic space."

"Wow, aren't you a ray of sunshine, sleemo," Digger remarked as he drew level.

Jud grinned under his helmet. It seemed that sneaking around agreed with Digger: he was back to his old cheery self. "Get 'em on the shuttle, Digger," he said. "We're almost ready for dust-off."

"Yes, sir! C'mon guys. Let's go, let's go, let's go!" Digger chivvied the civilians towards the squat form of the shuttle.

Jud looked around, mentally tallying up everyone in his group. All the civilians were onboard, so was Stolli, Meer, and Digger. He could hear the familiar humming of engines powering up. It was just him and Stretch left now.

"Stretch! Stop lollygagging! Get your _shebs_ on that shuttle!" Jud yelled.

Jud raised his decee, pointing it square at Durd's face. "Now _you_ are going to quietly walk over to the shuttle and not make any trouble, or I'll put one through your head."

The Nemoidian glared at him, red slits narrowing even farther with hatred, before he started walking. Jud let Durd get a few paces ahead, not letting his aim wander from the solid back in front of him. One wrong move and Jud would slot him, and Durd knew it.

That's the hard part done, Jud thought to himself. Not much the clankers can do once we get in the air. Everything's going as planned.


	17. The Plan Goes Awry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for this chapter is "Starbuck Takes On All Eight" from the Battlestar Galactica OST. For those of you keen to have a listen, it ought to be on YouTube.

Ril was sitting on the far end of the couch; the end closest to the shuttle's hatch, waiting for everyone to pile in so they could take off. The tiny shuttle interior was designed with opulence in mind: plush throws on soft chairs, chaotic sculptures and garish paintings spaced around the passenger cabinet. A tiny 'fresher was tucked discretely near the hatch and small conservator was nestled beneath a row of cupboards. Beside it, a transparisteel cabinet held bottles of various coloured liquids—refreshments perhaps?

Cera fidgeted, accidentally catching Ril in the side with her elbow. The blonde murmured an apology and Ril gave her a bland, 'no problem' smile. It was clear that the shuttle wasn't built for numbers. Everyone was jammed together on the couches so that Fitch's stretcher could be strapped down in the middle of the floor. Digger sat beside his injured comrade, refusing all offers of a seat so that he could hold Fitch's limp hand in his own.

From her spot, Ril could see Meer in the cockpit. He was toggling switches and muttering to himself as the engines of the shuttle start to warm up. He jumped out of the chair and made his way past Ril. "Will everyone _frakking_ get on board!" he shouted out of the hatch.

Stretch trotted over to the shuttle and stood at the bottom of the ramp, waiting. In the distance behind him, a square of droids milling about aimlessly. Ril craned her head to see around the medic. She could see the Nemoidian was backing towards the shuttle's ramp, Jud's rifle pointed at him. How they were going to get that rotund creature to fit in here was anyone's guess. Durd hesitated and Jud prodded him with the muzzle of this gun.

 _They were going to make it!_ A hopeful smile crept over Ril's face as Jud herded their reluctant guest towards the ship.

Even as she watched, Jud's head snapped around. He started to run, grabbing Durd's sleeve and hauling him towards the ramp. Red flashes peppered the ground where they had just been. The high pitched whine of blaster fire intruding in the peaceful interior of the shuttle. Jud seemed to trip, falling to his knees, as Durd fled from him towards the clones.

Ril dimly heard Digger shouting, saw streams of blue streaking out from beside her. Everything seemed to be unfolding in slow motion as Stretch and Digger leapt from their seats and ran out towards Jud, rifles blazing. Droids were pouring out of buildings on the other side of the landing pad; a maelstrom of red plasma headed their way.

Meer was shouting. Ril couldn't make out what he was saying, then there was a Nemoidian in her face. Durd disappeared underneath Meer's body and that's when she finally heard what he was yelling.

"Get down! Everybody down!"

Ril was wrenched down, hitting the floor hard. She looked over to find that Cera was the one who'd yanked her to the safety of the floor. Ril started to lift her head to see what was happening. A plasma bolt burned its way through the couch cushions, not more than a hand's width from her face, and she flattened herself again. The stench of singed fabric caught in the back of her throat.

There was a cry of pain outside the shuttle. Ril's head snapped up to see Digger lying face up on the ground. He wasn't moving. Jud was on his feet again, one arm hanging limply, the other providing cover fire as he tried to make his way to Digger. Stretch was also firing at the mass of droids coming towards them, he had one hand on Digger's neck. They were three smudges of white in a sea of red.

Movement beside her. Meer was trussing Durd up, not an easy task given they were all piled in a heap. Meer thrust his weapon at Wesak—"Watch him!"—and vanished back into the cockpit. The sound of engines took on a new, more frantic pitch as the shuttle began to rotate, the exposed interior angling away from the blaster fire.

"Help me!" Pani cried.

Ril looked over to see the older woman struggling with Fitch's deadweight, trying to move him to the seat in the corner. Ril hesitated, torn between going to help Jud, Digger, and Stretch—surely she could do _something_ —and helping move the unconscious man.

"Ril!"

Pani's yell snapped Ril out of her trance. She grabbed Fitch's legs, trying not to flinch from the thunking of blaster bolts hitting the ship's hull. Cera stumbled over to the corner seat, throwing cushions aside to clear a space for Fitch. Ril and Pani tottered over, Fitch slung awkwardly between them.

They'd just set him down when there was a huge explosion. The shuttle lurched to one side, metal scraping as its underside caught the permacrete of the landing pad. Ril was thrown forward, catching herself just in time to keep from landing on Fitch. Pani wasn't so quick. Cera had slammed into a nearby cabinet and was whimpering in pain. Durd and Wesak were also unbalanced, lurching drunkenly to the side. Wesak lost his grip on the rifle and it went skittering across the deck.

The Nemoidian took advantage of the distraction and charged Wesak, who went sprawling. Durd ran towards the ramp and Ril threw herself at him. Against all her expectations, she managed grab him, snatching at fabric and holding on for dear life. Durd twisted and yanked, trying to get her off, pushing at her face with his still-tied hands. Ril hung on, desperately fighting him even as he slowly forced her head back. Panic surged in her veins. He was too strong! Bit by bit, her head tilted backwards, her neck screaming in pain.

Then Durd froze, his fingers going slack. Ril pushed him off her. She looked up to find Cera holding the gun on Durd. Wesak hauled him away and began lashing him to a chair. With Cera's help, Ril got to her feet.

There was a clatter as the soldiers thundered up the ramp. Stretch and Jud were each supporting a limp, white form. _Oh no. Digger. Stolli_. "We're on! Take off!" Jud roared.

Engines roared as Meer did as he was ordered. The ramp squeaked closed, the shuttle gaining height with each passing moment. The patter of blaster fire against the hull faded as they drew away from the droids on the ground. The shuttle's acceleration dragged at her skin as Meer picked up speed.

Stretch and Jud were oblivious to the g-force pressing down on them. They had laid Digger and Stolli's blood-smeared form on the lush carpet of the shuttle. Jud started helping Stretch, removing the remaining plates of armour from Digger, but then Meer screamed something unintelligible and Jud disappeared into the cockpit.

Ril watched Stretch work, appalled at the amount of blood leaking from someone that she had come to know.

Stretch looked up, catching her eye. "I need you to press here, around this, hard as you can."

He caught her hands and pressed them to a damp patch in the black undersuit. 'This' turned out to be a metallic shard embedded in Stolli's stomach, a few jagged inches protruding. Ril instinctively recoiled from the horrific injury and the hot wetness under her palm, but Stretch's hands over hers held her there.

"Don't! Keep pressure on that wound. Hard as you can," he said.

Ril swallowed hard and pressed. Stolli let a grunt, and Ril almost let go again. She was hurting him!

Stretch pushed hard again, almost painfully, on her hands, keeping up the pressure on the wound. "Hard as you can," he repeated. "Ignore him."

Ril fought the hot swell of nausea and nodded at Stretch, pushing as hard as she could on the wound and hardening herself to Stolli's groans of pain. "I'm good."

Stretch nodded, and started stripping off more armour plates to reveal more damp patches seeping blood, more metal in flesh. After Stretch unclipped an armour plate to reveal a deep gash in Stolli's shoulder, the ivory gleam of bone against the red, Ril kept her eyes glued to her hands as the medic worked.

"Ril."

She looked up to see Stretch and Pani helping Stolli sit up. "We need to shift him," Stretch said. "Keep pressure on as much as you can."

Ril scooted towards the couches, doing her best to keep her hands squarely on Stolli's wound. With a grunt, Stretch and Pani slid Stolli across the floor towards Ril.

Now that he had space, Stretch moved to check Digger. Ril watched, heart in her mouth, as he rolled the wounded clone onto his side, so he could strip off the armour covering Digger's chest and back. Digger hadn't so much as moaned and one arm lolled bonelessly as Stretch rolled him.

Ril couldn't watch. She looked down at Stolli to seem him gazing up at her. Liquid dropped onto his cheek and Ril wondered where it had come from, only to realise she was crying.

"D's it… look tha' bad?" Stolli asked, trying to smile through halting speech.

"No," Ril said. "You're going to be just fine."

Stolli shut his eyes slowly. "Bad liar." He went horribly still.

"Stretch!" Ril shrieked, terrified that Stolli might've died.

The medic was there in an instant, pressing his fingers to Stolli's neck. "He's just unconscious. Probably best." He jabbed something into Stolli's thigh and then returned to Digger.

From his chair in the corner, Durd sniffed. "Why bother, medic? There will be more where he came from, and he's bleeding all over my carpet."

Ril glared at him. So did Cera, from where she was propping Fitch up on the couch. Wesak did a bit more than glare. He put the blaster square against Durd's temple. "Shut up."

Durd didn't seem bothered. "You need me, scum. You wouldn't _dare_."

For a moment, Ril thought that Wesak might dare. But he didn't. Instead, he grabbed a nearby throw and fashioned a rough gag out of it. Durd protested loudly, but none of it was articulate. That was fine by Ril.

She looked back in time to see Stretch ease off Digger's chest plate. Ril couldn't help but gasp, for the medic exposed a singed hole square in the centre of Digger's chest, right over his heart. Angry red flesh glared up at her through the edges of the fabric. There didn't seem to be any blood, not like Stolli. But Stolli was moaning and alive. Was Digger…? Ril pressed harder, as though if she kept Stolli alive, Digger might stir. The only noises filtering through the hushed cabin were Meer and Jud's voices in the cockpit, and Stretch rummaging in his belt.

She was almost afraid to ask. "Is he…?"

The medic retrieved a hypo and jammed it into Digger's neck. "He's alive." Three pairs of lungs sighed in relief at Stretch's quiet assessment.

Stretch carefully pulled the singed material away from the edges of the wound and positioned a bacta patch over the ugly burn. "He's in pretty bad shape, but he's still hanging on. Both of them need a med bay, and fast."

Meer called stridently from the cockpit. "Hold onto something! We've got company!"

Ril didn't know what exactly Stretch said, but it sounded impressive.


	18. Durd's Ace in the Hole

Something hit Jud in the shoulder with enough force to take him to the ground. Fire was eating its way into his flesh. He was familiar enough with blaster wounds to know that he'd been shot. Durd let out a yelp and ran for the shuttle. Jud swivelled towards to the mass of droids that had emerged from the unlit huts and opened fire with his good arm, hoping to provide some cover; Durd was no good to them dead. Why oh why had he not insisted that they clear the other buildings! He'd gotten cocky and now they'd be lucky to get out of here alive.

"Sarge!"

Jud struggled to get to his feet and, to his left, saw Stolli vaulting over the com centre's control banks, a good two meters off the ground. The impact slowed him for a second, and then Stolli was running towards him, firing the whole time. Streaks of blue flew past Jud. In his HUD's wrap-around vision, he saw Digger and Stretch charging out from the shuttle behind him.

"Get back on that ship!" he yelled. What were they doing coming back for him? They needed to get the ship off the ground—now!

Digger skidded to a halt beside him. He grabbed Jud and hauled him up. "To hell with that, sir! We're not leaving anyone else behind."

Stretch was flanking Jud's other side. "Come _on,_ sir!" he yelled.

Jud took two steps. There was a _crack_ and Digger fell backwards. There was a fist-sized hole in his chest plate. Stretch dropped to one knee to check Digger. Jud covered the medic as best he could. Behind him, he could hear the whine as the shuttle's engines got ready for take-off. Stolli was ten meters away to their left, sprinting towards them as fast as he could.

An almighty boom shook the ground. Jud went temporarily deaf as his helmet's baffles cut in, muffling the world around him. Shards of debris whizzed past him and he tried to duck as the larger pieces skimmed to either side of the group. The deluge of red blaster fire stopped and Jud noted with pleasure that the droid numbers had been halved by the explosion. They was still heavily outnumbered, but the odds weren't stacked quite so high against them anymore. The com station was gone. Jud wondered what had happened. Stolli wasn't supposed to blow it until they'd put some distance between it and—

Stolli. The shuttle. The civilians.

Jud scanned the remains of the com centre. There were a few flames, but by and large, the explosive was percussive, causing damage rather than igniting fires. The shuttle was still in one piece. Stolli… There was no armoured clone running towards them. His icon was still pulsing strongly in Jud's HUD though, so he was out there somewhere.

"He's alive," Stretch said, still working on stabilising Digger. "But he needs to evac and now."

"Copy that," Jud said. "I've got to get Stolli. Can you carry Digger?"

"Yes, sir."

Jud ran in the direction that he'd last seen Stolli. There! Folded over a scorched looking crate was a familiar silhouette. Jud raced over. Stolli moaned when Jud touched him. Pieces of shrapnel had penetrated his armour in several plates and the once-white plates were battered and scratched. Stolli was still alive though, that was the important thing.

Trying not to jar the injured clone unduly, or catch onto the shrapnel, Jud looped his good arm around Stolli's torso. Stolli did his best to support his own weight, but the other man was clearly in pain. There wasn't time to give him a sharp of painkiller. Jud half-ran, half-dragged both of them over to the shuttle's ramp. Before they were even properly on, he started screaming for Meer to take off.

The civilians' faces were white as they looked at the clones. Fitch had been propped up on a couch and was being held there by Cera of all people. Ril was bleeding from a cut on her forehead. Wesak was tying up Durd. The shuttle shuddered slightly as it lifted off the permacrete. Acceleration pressed Jud into the carpeted floor; that wasn't right, he shouldn't feel anything. A moan from Stolli focused him. He started removing Stolli's armour so that Stretch could tend to his many bleeding wounds, but Meer interrupted from the pilot's cabin.

"Sir! I need your help up here!" Meer sounded panicked, even for him.

Jud half-growled a curse and sprinted for the cockpit, lurching from side to side as the shuttle shuddered. He flung himself into the co-pilot's seat just as the shuttle bucked again. He caught his shoulder just wrong, hissing from the pain. "What in the—" he began.

"Inertial dampeners are damaged," Meer said shortly, his knuckles white on the steering yoke. "And we've got a _Munificent_ -class cruiser in orbit."

"What!"

A beeping started from the console in front of Jud.

"We're being hailed," Meer said.

The holotransmitter in the shuttle's dashboard flickered into life, showing a T-series advisor droid in its boxy entirety. Droids didn't show emotion, but Jud fancied this one looked a mite pleased with himself, it seemed almost smug as it looked at him.

" _Surrender now,"_ the droid said in its metallic monotone.

"Thanks, but we'll pass," said Jud.

The droid continued arrogantly. _"Your cruiser was destroyed and analysis indicates you are unable to return to the Prime Galaxy. I calculate your odds of success against me at three hundred and twenty seven to one. You have Lok Durd on board. You will release him. Power down your engines and prepare to be boar_ _–_ _"_

Jud cut off the transmission, feeling hollow. The _Endeavour_ was gone? Their chances of survival had just plummeted.

Meer let out a slow hiss of breath. "What now, sir?"

There was a chime from the baffling array of lights and buttons in front of him. Jud couldn't work out what had made the noise. "Umm, Meer?"

Meer craned his head to see the panel, then let out a long curse in Huttese. He swivelled in his seat so he could call into the cabin. "Hold onto something! We've got company!"

There was laughter from the cabin. Jud spun around to see that Durd had managed to spit out his gag and was chuckling merrily. "You stupid clones thought you could—"

There was a blue flash and he slumped back into silence. Jud stared across the cabin to see Stolli gripping his decee one-handed.

"Insult my friends will you," Stolli grunted. His outstretched arm started to tremble and Pani reached for the weapon. Stretch didn't look happy with Stolli and started checking that his patient hadn't done himself more damage.

Jud was stunned. "We needed him…" he trailed off.

Stolli hissed in pain. "The sleemo's not dead. Just stunned," he managed to get out in between Stretch's ministrations.

"Oh." Jud turned to look around. Everyone was staring into the pilot's cabin, clone and civilian alike. "I take it you all heard?"

A slow chorus of nods replied. Jud peered over at Ril. Her face was pale and her hands were covered in blood where she was pressing them to Stolli's torso. The other civilians looked equally ragged.

"Those fighters will be here in a few minutes," Meer said quietly. It was for Jud's ears only.

Jud tried to think. What should they do? The shuttle had no weapons and there was no way they were going to outrun the fighters. With no help coming…

"Can we outfly them?" he asked Meer.

Meer gave him a clear 'are you kidding' look. "No, sir. I'm no pilot and this thing's about as manoeuvrable as a drunken Hutt."

Jud's shoulder blazed with pain as another lurch send the top of the chair into his blaster wound. He did his best to focus, trying to block out the pain. "Can we jump?"

Meer nodded. "Yes, for all the good that would do us, sir. The hyperdrive isn't powerful to get us all the way back from the Rishi Maze."

 _Great._ Getting stuck between galaxies wasn't on his to-do list for the day. But then, neither had been getting shot. "We've got two choices then," Jud said. "Try to find an inhabited planet in this system"—he paused to brace himself as the shuttle shuddered—"and a way back from the Republic from there. Or we can take our chances back on the surface."

"Well, we know we're outnumbered and outgunned back on the planet," Pani argued.

"But what happens when we don't find another inhabited planet?" Cera said. "I don't know any? Does anyone else?"

The shuttle shook violently and Jud turned his attention back to the control panel which was now shrieking and flashing warning alarms at him. Jud hadn't the slightest idea what they meant.

"Talk to me!" Jud bellowed as panic started to permeate the cabin.

"The vultures have caught up with us," Meer rapped out as he wrestled with uncooperative controls. "Main deflector shields are almost down. They've taken out the starboard engine. We can't take much more of this."

That was all Jud needed to make up his mind. He'd not got them this far to let everyone die now. "Get ready to jump. We'll take our chances out in the black."

"Yes, sir." Meer started flicking switches and toggling buttons. "We'll have to swing round past the cruiser; get away from the planet's gravity well."

"Can we make it?" Wesak asked from beside Durd's now-silent form.

"We're going to have to," Jud said tersely as the pain from his shoulder swamped him again. "Meer, turn us around."

"Copy that, sir." Meer banked in a wide circle, pointing them directly at the enemy flagship.

In the viewscreen, Jud could see the skeletal cruiser looming in front of them, silhouetted against the blackness of space by the planet's glow.

Meer cranked open the shuttle's throttle to full, the engines whining as they were pushed to their limits. The ship shot forward. "Here we go…"

The Separatist cruiser was getting closer and closer. Jud felt his stomach tying itself in knots again. Red turbolasers lanced through space, right in front of the shuttle's nose. His shoulder was screaming at him, the pain making him giddy. This was it. He felt could see into the enemy bridge if he stared hard enough. Collision alarms started sounding.

Then they stopped. The ship jerked to a halt as though they hit a wall in space. Jud was thrown against the control panel, the edge catching his ribs painfully. He heard cries from the cabin behind him.

"No! No! No!" Meer slammed his fists into the controls hard enough to bruise. He started flipping switches and pressing buttons, all to no effect.

Jud held onto his side with his good arm. It seemed to dull the pain in his ribs. His shoulder was a whopping mass of hurt. "What happened?"

"Tractor beam." Meer's voice was dead. "They've got us, sir, and there's nothing we can do about it."

The engines' whining stopped as Meer powered them off. Despair settled over everyone. Jud couldn't believe that they'd come this far, survived against all odds, just to get caught now.

"If you don't mind, sir," Meer said. "I'd like to be with Digger."

Jud nodded and Meer slipped into the cabin and sat down beside Digger, gripping his friend's hand tightly. Jud slid back in his seat and watched as the docking bay to the massive Separatist ship loomed ever nearer. Any moment now, the ship would be stormed and they'd likely be captured and executed. If they were lucky, the two things would follow one immediately after the other. All because he made a bad call.

No.

He'd made _a_ call. It just hadn't worked out. That was all. He'd chosen to make a break for it. The Seps had had a tractor beam. _So much for that idea._ He leaned back in his chair. _May as well get comfy—_

The control panel shrilled and the shuttle stopped its inexorable march towards the droid ship. They were drifting forwards still, but for some reason they were no longer being pulled in. Jud peered out at the viewscreen, craning up in a vain attempt to get a good look at what was going on. Pinpricks of blue far above them, not stars. A gout of fire erupted from the cruiser's midsection. Chunks of it's top deck came free, spiralling dangerously close to their direction.

"Meeer…" Jud yelled, conscious that it was not good to be this close to a ship that was obviously going down.

Plumes of smoke-tainted atmosphere started appearing around the stricken cruiser. Above them all, ploughing through the haze, came the distinctive red and white triangle of a _Venator_ -class destroyer. A _Republic_ destroyer. It was the most beautiful thing that Jud had ever seen.

Jud was escstatic; Stolli's signal must've gotten through. Then he realised that they were in a Separatist ship. Meer was thinking along the same lines. He was beside Jud again, frantically flipping switches and trying to establish a com channel to the other ship. Behind him, Jud heard Stretch swearing frantically at someone.

"Don't you dare give up on me, _vod_! Not now! Not after all this! Breathe, damn you, breathe!"

Jud's blood turned to ice, he twisted in his seat, trying to see who it was. Meer grabbed his arm and yanked him around as a blue form shimmered to life over the console. It was another clone, one dressed in ship's greys, his face stern.

"Republic vessel, do not fire on shuttlecraft. Repeat, do not fire," Jud said desperately. "Friendlies aboard and one for Republic Intelligence."

" _Identify yourself,"_ the other clone demanded.

"CT-58/2571. 35th Legion. Typhoon Company," Jud said.

_"And the rest of the company?"_

Jud swallowed. "We're all that's left. Permission to dock?"

The other clone turned aside to consult with someone outside the holoemitter's range. Then he turned back to Jud, his stance softer. " _Permission granted, Typhoon. We've got your back. Come on home."_


	19. All Present Less One

Everything was so bright.

Jud blinked rapidly, his eyes watering in the unexpected light. The acrid smell of disinfectant rasped at the back of his throat. He tried to roll over and sit up, but his head spun. Jud put a hand to his forehead, willing his body to cooperate as he hunched over in the bed groaning.

"Whoa there, take it easy, trooper!" The screen around his bed parted and a clone dressed in white hurried though. "Just relax. Those ribs of yours are fixed now—same for your shoulder—but that doesn't mean you should go bounding out of bed."

Jud looked around, but the place didn't look familiar.

The medic must've picked up on his confusion because he gently said, "you're on board _Fearless_ —in the medbay. We were investigating the _Endeavour_ 's disappearance when we heard your signal."

Jud nodded. "I remember now. And the name's Jud. Where are the rest of my men, the civilians that were with me in the shuttle?" he asked.

The other clone smiled and started checking him over, flashing a light into Jud's eyes as he spoke. "Sorry for the misunderstanding, Jud. I'll append your personnel file so your name comes up properly in future. As for the rest of your crew, they are being cleaned up ready for debriefing." He started making notes on the datapad at the end of Jud's bed.

Jud cautiously rotated his arm. No spikes of pain erupted in his shoulder so he started stretching out the muscles. His ribs also felt good as new. "Am I free to go, er…?" He wasn't sure of the medic's name.

"Soap. Sergeant-Medic Soap at your service, and you're free to go. For now. But if I find out you've been overdoing it, I'll have you in a bacta tank so fast it'll make your head spin."

"Yes, sir." Jud grinned. Low tolerance for patient stunts seemed to be a universal characteristic of medics. Then his grin faded. "Sir, some of my men were badly injured. How are they?"

Soap's face was set in stone. "I'm sorry, Jud, but we lost one of them. The rest will be good as new soon."

Jud's heart was pounding in his chest. He couldn't speak. How could they have gotten this far, been saved at the eleventh hour, but still lose someone? It felt unreal. He cleared his throat after several tries. "Who?"

Soap consulted his pad. It shouldn't have hurt Jud to see that, but it did. "CT-18-4440."

Digger. Optimistic Digger. Always friendly Digger. A lump lodged itself in Jud's throat. "I want to see him."

The medic shrugged. "Nothing to see."

"Have you…?" Jud couldn't say it.

"Incinerated the body? No. Not yet. One of your men was adamant that you should be there when that happened. A bit too adamant for than the chain of command allows for." Soap looked annoyed. "He's lucky the commander didn't throw him in the brig."

_Meer_. Jud swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The fiery clone had been buddied with Digger as long as Jud could remember. Digger was always the one who kept Meer on the level, stopped him from doing stupid things. With Digger gone, Meer would be in a bad way. He would need to talk to Meer. And soon. Then they would need to take care of Digger's body. Digger should be looked after by his brothers—his _real_ brothers.

"The other wounded?" Jud asked, trying to distract himself from the dispiriting tasks to come.

"Why not see for yourself." Soap steadied Jud as he slid off the bed. He handed Jud a fresh, neatly folded, body glove—"I'll be outside"—and slipped back through the curtains.

Jud emerged once he was decent. Soap was leaning against the wall, making notes on his datapad. The curtains were drawn on three other bays. Two beside the one he'd just emerged from, and one at the far end of the medbay. Jud reached for the curtain to the first bay then paused. He glanced at Soap who nodded.

Jud gently drew aside the curtain to reveal Fitch lying motionless under a tangle of wires and tubes. In the harsh light of the medbay, Fitch's injuries were thrown into stark relief. It looked like someone had gone over the other man with a cookie cutter, ringing his collarbone with shallow one-inch circles. Fitch's bare arms, lying outside the coverlet, also showed signs of his encounter with the crawlers; circles of all different sizes clearly marked out the joints in his armour. The circles had that pale pink colour of new skin.

"He's so still," Jud murmured, not wanting to wake Fitch.

"He's just asleep," Soap said. "Something in the venom reacts with bacta to make the wounds worse. We've worked out a different treatment though, so he's healing well now. I'll keep him here overnight just to make sure, but he'll be good for light duties. He'll have a few new interesting scars."

The next bay had Stolli in it. He was not asleep.

"Sarge!"

"You're looking much better, Stolli." It was true. Stolli had looked like a human pincushion, now he just sported a few bacta patches where before there had been gaping wounds and jagged shrapnel protruding from flesh.

"Thank you, sir."

Jud shook his head. "I'm just a regular private like you again."

Stolli made a noise of dissent. Jud shot him a warning look. They were back amongst their brothers now, back to the normal way of doing things. Jud turned to the medic. "When will he be fit for duty?"

Soap consulted the chart at the foot of Stolli's cot. "I've one last test to run, but then he's all yours."

Jud gripped Stolli's hand tightly, a promise that he wasn't forgotten. Then he drew the curtains closed again.

That left the last bay. Soap made to stop him as he headed towards it. Jud sidestepped the medic and marched towards the bay. At the curtain he hesitated, one hand on the fabric, the other clenched into a fist at his side. He should see Digger. He should say his goodbyes, but his body didn't feel the same way; it refused to move. Jud stood there, frozen in front of the bay that held his fallen friend. He couldn't go in, but he couldn't go leave Digger just lying there.

Sergeant Soap seemed to pick up on Jud's mood. "I won't do anything with him for now," he said. "Go clean yourself up, eat something, and get some rack time." He nudged a mouse droid with a toe and rattled off a room number, a long string of numbers and letters that somehow corresponded to the ship's many decks and sections. The droid squeaked and zipped into the corridor where it paused. Soap gestured after it. "Go on. It'll get you to the barracks."

Jud pulled himself together enough to salute as he left the medbay.

When he reached the barracks, he showered and changed mechanically, collapsing in the first empty bunk he found. The room was still empty when he woke up, and his stomach was loudly and painfully demanding to be filled. He poked his nose outside the barracks to find a clone dressed in ship's greys outside the door.

The other man saluted. "Commander Gett would like your after-action report by 1700 hours. Until then, I'm to help you with whatever you need and to show you 'round the place."

"Oh." Jud didn't know what to say to that. He was saved from further discomfort by a very audible growl from his stomach.

The other man ducked his head to hide a grin. "If you like, I can take you to the mess hall?"

"I think that might be the first order of business," Jud agreed.

He was in the mess hall toying with the remains of his topato when Stolli, Stretch, and Meer slid into the seats beside him, their food trays clattering slightly against the tabletop. Jud's guide cum guard was standing by the door to the mess hall.

"Good to see you up and about, sir," Stolli murmured.

Jud sighed and gave up on the gluggy mess of topato. "I told you before, Stolli. I'm not a sir. Not anymore."

The others didn't say anything, instead choosing to make inroads on their meals. Jud stole a glance at Meer. The man was very quiet, his eyes far away as he ate his meal, his spoon moving mechanically from tray to mouth.

"So what do you think of the commander?" Stretch asked around a mouthful of stew.

"Haven't met him yet." Jud drained his cup. "You have?"

"Yes, sir," said Stolli, ignoring Jud's grimace at the continued use of 'sir'. "He's spoken to each of us already; I dunno about Fitch though."

"He seems like a decent officer," Stretch said, through a mouthful of greens. "Asked intelligent questions. Not like Lieutenant Reed."

Lieutenant Reed, who had been notorious for his inflexible thinking, had perished in the defoliator's fireball along with the rest of First Platoon. Stretch seemed to realise that he'd erred and redirected his attention to his food.

"So, back to life as we know it then," Stolli said. "New company, same old routine. Or do you think they'll rebuild Typhoon Company? I hear some company in the 501st had that happen to them." He paused, looking at Jud for confirmation.

Meer's head also came up at that; the first sign of interest and life he'd shown since he sat down.

Jud suppressed an inner sigh. It looked like he was still their sarge, for better or worse. He shook his head. "I think that was only because the CO and two sergeants were among the survivors. We're a bunch of privates; it makes more sense to put us into an existing company. I'll guess we'll see what Commander Gett has to say about it when I meet him later."

* * *

The whole thing had been all kinds of surreal. Ril pressed herself to the view port, staring out at the blue streaks of starlight that crawled past. She was on a ship. Not just a shuttle. A proper ship.

Her escort coughed and she realised she was probably mucking up the glass. She offered him a sheepish grin. "Sorry about that."

"Not a problem, ma'am."

It was a phrase that Jud had used a lot, but this other man didn't say it quite right.

She hadn't seen Jud or any of the clones that had been on Rekohu since the shuttle's hatch had opened to reveal a whole squad of clones in shiny white armour pointing guns at them. Once the soldiers saw Jud and the others, they had lowered their guns and whisked Fitch, Digger, Stolli, and Jud away. She hadn't been allowed to follow. Even Meer and Stretch had vanished somewhere.

Ril had been checked over by a polite, if distant, medic. Then she'd been led to a room and given a trayful of various mushed up foods. No wonder Jud and Fitch could eat those bland ration bars without complaint, if this was their normal diet. Still, it was nice to be able to eat and drink as much as she wanted—a welcome change from the recent rationing.

The ship's captain, a Commander Gett, had asked her some questions about what had happened, carefully noting down her answers. He informed her that she and the other civilians were being transferred to a frigate bound to Coruscant, then most likely onto Naboo or Corellia for resettlement as war refugees.

Any queries about the clones that had saved her were deflected: they were still in the medical bay, they were being debriefed, they were sleeping. All the while, she was followed by her silent shadow in grey. It was getting frustrating. Soon she'd be gone, and all she wanted was the chance to say goodbye.

* * *

Sergeant Soap released Fitch with strict orders to follow the exercises he'd been given to improve the flexibility of his news scars and range of movement, and the dire threat of more time in the medbay if he wasn't vigilant enough.

He was just in time to say goodbye to Digger and the civilians before they were shipped out.

They stood all silently, clone and civilian, and watched as Digger's body slid into the chute that led to the heart of the cruiser. Fitch just couldn't believe that they'd gotten so far, against all odds, only to lose another member of their team at the last hurdle.

The hatch closed with a clang and a red light pulsed showing the chute was in use. No one moved, staring at the square, grey door. Fitch couldn't help feeling guilty that he hadn't helped out. That Digger had been killed when he was lying there unconscious and useless, but the others had jumped on him when he'd mentioned it earlier.

"You were kriffing unconscious because you saved our skins earlier," Meer had growled. "S'not your fault."

Meer's giddy exuberance had vanished, fled to wherever Digger had gone, leaving only a grim doggedness. Fitch knew that Digger and Meer were close. They had balanced each other out, like two halves of a whole. So somehow it meant more, relieved some of that dark ball of guilt, when Meer said he wasn't to blame.

The light changed to green. Digger was really gone now, with only a file in the Grand Army's records to prove he was ever alive. No one budged from their vigil. Fitch was glad that the civilians had come and thought that Digger would've liked it too.

"I'm sorry about Digger," Wesak said.

Pani, Cera, and Ril also murmured condolences. It was strange seeing him and the other civilians in clone fatigues, but that was all that was available in stores. The clothing hung off them oddly. He guessed that was what happened when people were all different sizes. It was odd, he would've thought Cera would be skinnier than Ril, but she filled out the coverall better.

"Where to from here?" Jud asked Ril.

She smiled. "Perhaps university on Corellia—learn to be a proper botanist." Ril looked at the civilians who chimed in.

"I think I'll open a bakery," Pani said. "Fresh bread is fairly popular no matter where in the galaxy you are."

"What about you?" Fitch asked Wesak, who was standing with one arm looped around Cera's waist.

"New farm?" Ril guessed.

Wesak shook his head. "I think we'll be much too busy in five months to be worrying about a farm." He looked down at Cera who smiled radiantly at him, hands clasped over her stomach.

His statement elicited gasps from Ril and Pani. Ril hugged Cera. Pani pumped Wesak's hand up and down. Even the other clones looked happy, small smiles on their lips. Fitch frowned; he was missing something.

Cera came over to Meer. "With your permission, we'd like to name her Maia Digger Tiaki. For the man who helped save her life."

"Maia means hope," Wesak added.

Fitch finally got what they meant. They'd saved five civilians, not four.

Meer swallowed hard, but he nodded. "He'd like that." His voice was husky.

Sergeant Medic Soap interrupted them. "The frigate has arrived. It's time to go."

After letting the civilians have one last round of hugs with Fitch and the others, Soap shepherded them away. Fitch waved as they vanished out the door. He hoped they would have better luck on their next planet. He was left in the medbay with the survivors of Typhoon Company.

Sergeant Jud broke the silence. "So have you made up your minds yet?"

Commander Gett had upheld Jud's battlefield promotion, he was a sergeant for real now. Fitch knew what he meant though. Commander Gett had been very impressed with their initiative and had offered to sponsor any or all of them to the next cycle of ARC selection. He'd been given Fitch a choice: go for ARC training, or stay as part of Improcco Company—the Commander's company.

He didn't know about the others, but after Rekohu, Fitch was happy to stay as a regular trooper, working with friends rather than all alone. _Fearless_ looked like a good ship and the crew were friendly; this could be his new home. He hoped one of the others chose to join Improcco Company as well. It would be nice to start out with a friend.

"I'm staying," he said.

"And me," said Meer.

Meer was still staring at the hatch, as if he was burning it into his memory. Fitch resolved there and then that he would watch his brother's six. Digger had done that for him on Rekohu, so it was only fair to pass the favour along.

Stolli cracked his knuckles idly. "I'm not really much of a commando type. Guess I'm staying too."

"You'll need a decent medic," Stretch said. "No telling where we might end up."

"Then you all better get used to calling me sarge again," Jud said. "I've already told the Commander I'd be honoured to join his company."

Fitch grinned. Not one friend, but three and a sergeant as a best mate. It sounded like a great start.

.

* * *

**Coda**

Unit Commendation Award

Typhoon Company, Nyrim Battalion, 35th Legion distinguished itself by meeting and exceeding its mission objectives on Rekohu in the face of overwhelming odds from 14:2:3 to 14:2:7.

On this date, Typhoon Company was deployed on Rekohu (Sector R-12, Companion Aurek) to evacuate the civilian populace as a result of Separatist aggression. Despite the loss of their air support and the majority of its men, Typhoon Company evacuated the surviving civilians, captured the enemy commander, and destroyed the Separatist facilities on-planet.

The unit accomplished its mission with a maximum degree of war readiness. The professionalism, knowledge, and technical skills of Typhoon Company's personnel contributed directly to the fulfilment of the Republic's objectives.

The distinctive accomplishments of the members of Typhoon Company reflect great credit upon themselves and the Grand Army of the Republic.

—Transmission from _Fearless_ to GAR High Command.

**Author's Note:**

> A massive thank you to FFN's TheRighterzPen for beta'ing this story. Without her feedback and oodles of help, this story would not be what it is today. Thanks also to MasterFeign and Darkwinter999 for helping out with the action sequence.


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